


I Come (From The Land Down Under)

by DollyPop



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Alcohol, Cunnilingus, Dick Jokes, Dick Pics, Drug Use, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Humor, I'm not sorry, Implied Sexual Content, Pierced Dick, Pierced Stein, Ridiculous, Romance, Sexual Humor, Tongue Piercings, Tongue Split, WELCOME TO RESBANG, allusions to anal, and also marie's butt, and the alcohol is wine, not sorry, putting the dick in ridickulous, so many piercings, the drug use is for weed btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 13:16:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9550673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollyPop/pseuds/DollyPop
Summary: It’s a beautiful, breezy evening when Marie Mjolnir checks her phone and sees that she has thirty, yes, THIRTY unread text messages from one Spirit Albarn, all featuring his readily unimpressive schlong with the question of ‘Which should I send my date?’.In a fit of what has to be the most annoyance and irritation she had ever felt, she retaliated by giving him his answer in the form of making a blog rating the pictures he sent her of his wiener. What she didn’t expect was that she would start up the newest internet sensation, spending her days rating various wieners. It’s only when she receives an all too appealing (to her) image of a rather studded Anaconda, the only image she grants a sparkling A+, that the real Boloney Pony ride begins.Of course, everyone save for her know that it belongs to Frank Stein, owner and head piercer at Needle and a Thread tattoo shop, as well as Marie’s best friend and crush of over a decade. But, of course, what would any decent story be without some kind of misconception?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [messofthejess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/messofthejess/gifts).



> not sorry
> 
> the remaining chapters will be posted up throughout the day!
> 
> for MessoftheJess, who has been feeling kind of down recently, and inspired me to keep writing. <3 <3 She also wrote a hella awesome resbang, and you guys should check it out!! Under the Grinning Moon is a masterpiece. 
> 
> Unlike this drivel.

 

_“Try my slam on for size. Drive stick with that kung-fu grip, let the banana split and watch it go right to your thighs._

_I got somethin' and it goes thumpin' like this._

_All you need is: my uhn tiss uhn tiss uhn tiss.”_

_~Bloodhound Gang_

_.  
._

_“You’re the one who makes me cum, honey. You’re the sun who makes me shine.”_

_~The Divinyls_

_.  
._

_“Got the magic stick, I'm the love doctor._

_Have your friends teasing you 'bout how sprung I gotcha.”_

_~50 Cent_

 

* * *

 

There was a particular brand of misery that came about from being one of Spirit Albarn’s closest friends. And, at the moment, that misery had manifested in Marie’s phone having gone off at least 700 times whilst she was trying to cry her eyes out at The Notebook. Damnit, how was she supposed to get into the beautiful, tragic romance when goddamn Spirit was blowing up her phone like he was a bomber and it had committed some sort of sin against him?

 

Marie all but growled, tossing her slowly melting pint of Ben and Jerrys onto her table. Once, fine. She could ignore it. Twice, even.

 

But not after so many times. Her phone hadn’t stopped. She might as well have used it as a vibrator at this point.

 

Quickly, she snatched it up, one hand coming to the remote to pause the romantic film, at her favorite part, might she add, to unlock her phone. The background of her cat, Mr. Mittens in a hat greeter her, and so she had to swipe over to her messages, ready to send Spirit a piece of her goddamn mind. Friends since middle school didn’t mean he was allowed to send her so many damn messages. If this was like that time he tweeted her over a hundred times over a vine, she was going to scream.

 

But when she opened the message, it was infinitely worse, and her grip on her phone slackened.

 

Well, she knew she couldn’t say that she’d never seen Spirit Albarn’s pitiful penis in the past, due to him unsuccessfully trying to get into her high quality panties, but this? This was just cruel.

 

Because looking back at her was a massive wall of the same dick pic in various angles, with the repeated question of ‘Which should I send my date?’

 

Oh. Oh hell no. Hell. No. Marie was a good woman. She paid taxes. She gave to animal shelters. She made friends with all the weird redheads who had probably given at least six women and three men VD. She deserved foot rubs and a decent makeout session and a few really nice orgasms.

 

She did _not_ deserve _this_.  

 

Sighing, she stood up. She was going to need more than just ice cream to deal with _this_ particular headache.

* * *

 

In hindsight, the wine was a bad idea. Marie had them in the past, of course. Like sending a picture of her butt to an ex-boyfriend, sending a drunk text to Azusa about how she wanted to pour caramel on a certain someone, and even trying to become an ordained minister.

 

But none of that could compare to the line of thought she had when she’d snatched up her laptop, almost swaying in her bumblebee socks, half-skidding over her immaculate wooden floors, to plop down on her couch and go about the beautiful business of allowing let her fingers skim over the keys and create StopSendingShittyDickPics.Tumblr.com

 

She giggled, wiggling herself deeper into her couch cushions, missing the USB port to plug her phone in a whopping fifteen times, but after she got enough motor control of basic functions, she watched as Spirit’s pictures were all downloaded onto her computer.

 

In the background, the two main characters in The Notebook kissed passionately in the rain, and she thought she wouldn’t much mind Jake Gyllenhaal’s dick pic. So much better than Spirit’s, at least. Marie huffed, almost throwing the laptop off her thighs in her sudden welling of irritation.

 

Clearly, that simply meant that she needed more wine.

* * *

 

If one were to interrogate her, which, uh, Azusa definitely did, she wouldn’t be able to recall much save for the haze of censored sex scenes on her television and a few wine-flavored hiccups and burps.

 

Which, obviously, did not suit her best friend when she called her at the ungodly hour of noon.

 

Marie groaned, her drool all but having adhered her cheek to the upholstery of her purple couch, her ringtone of Man, I Feel Like a Woman blaring through her skull like an explosion. She whined pitifully, bringing the back of her hand up to her mouth to wipe the ick off of her chin, as well as to rub some of the sleep from her eye. After having lost one in a car accident when she was seventeen, she never really had to rub at her left eye, but the prosthetic was frustrating if she kept it in. Thankfully, whatever she had done last night, she had the good sense to take that out.

 

Marie all but rolled off of her couch trying to grab her phone, which was connected to her laptop via a hot-pink USB cord as though an umbilical cord, instead. God, what did she _do_ last night?

 

“Mmmhello?” she asked, when she’d finally brought the phone to her ear, trying to sound more awake than she was. Working as a Fetish Model was great money, but she never knew when a job was going to pop up and she’d have to dig out her corsets and impossibly high heels. “Marie Mjolnir-”

 

“What did you _do_ last night, Marie?” Azusa said into the phone, and Marie could hear Nygus’ barely contained giggles in the background.

 

“Uh. . .watched the notebook. . .drank some wine-“

 

“Marie.”

 

“Okay, a lot of wine.”

 

“ _Marie._ Spirit called me at 6 this morning to not only inform me that he didn’t get laid, but also that his dick is suddenly plastered all over the internet?”

 

Marie’s brows furrowed before snippets of last night came through.

 

Oh.

 

Yeah.

 

That was something she did.

 

“Uh. . .I guess his date must have leaked them.”

 

“Thirty pictures, Marie!”

 

“He sent her that many?” Marie asked, innocently, and she could hear Nygus chortling in the background, certainly finding the conversation between her and Azusa hilarious.

 

“Cut the shit, Marie, I know you posted them.”

 

“You have no proof.”

 

“Bullshit. You made an entire _blog_ about it. StopSendingShittyDickPics.Tumblr.Com. And, really, Marie. Tumblr?”

 

“Anyone could have made that blog-“

 

“You included one of your pin up pictures in the about me.”

 

“Oh, god, was it at least flattering? It wasn’t the one where I had my whole booty ass out, was it?”

 

“No, Marie, it wasn’t.”

 

“Okay, because I was saving that one.”

 

“Yes, yes, we all know it’s your secret weapon for seducing Stei-“

 

“ShhhHHH. Shh. No. I- no”

 

“Well, whatever. I don’t care what you do with your butthole, Marie-“

 

“Not much _these_ days,” she muttered, but Azusa ignored her, barreling on.

 

“But you might want to check the numbers on your blog. They’re climbing rather highly.”

 

And that was that. Azusa cut the call with a sharp clack, which made no sense to Marie because they lived in the age of smart phones. She was sure that Azusa merely imitated the sound of a flip phone closing, in which case, that made her a bigger nerd than Marie, and thus she was happy.

 

Nonetheless, Marie sighed, rolling to set her phone down and accidentally rolling off of the couch, instead, letting loose a high yelp as she fell to her carpet. It was too damn early in the afternoon for this bullshit. All those dustbunnies under her couch were reminding her that she only ever vacuumed when Stein was over.

 

Or, rather, that Stein only vacuumed when Stein was over. And high. That’s where the joint he had rolled last week went. Huh.

 

Marie grumbled as she brought herself up to her knees, huffing. She wasn’t built for falls like that. A solid two foot drop could have killed her. Then what would she have done? She hasn’t even told Azusa she wants the inside of her coffin to be pink. And fuzzy. Tragedies abound.

 

Deciding that she was too tired to really get up, she only groped about for her laptop, finding it still open. When her finger nudged against one of the keys, the entire screen lit up, and she looked down at the counter at the bottom of the open tab, her blog, to see the tally mark of how many people had seen it.

 

Oh.

 

Oh, holy _shit._

 

That was a lot of digits.

* * *

 

For two days, she contemplated whether she should take it all down. After all, she was using someone's wang, not that she’d gotten all that much pleasure from the great majority of them in the first place. Second of all, it was Spirit’s, and did she really want that kind of blood on her hands?

 

And then, she got another submission.

 

And another.

 

And yet another.

 

Soon, companies were contacting her for advertisement space, offering to pay her a certain percentage. Someone said she should charge 5 dollars for writing reviews on the submissions she got.

 

It took a grand total of two weeks for Marie to become the newest sensation, posting up reviews, both drunken and otherwise, of people’s schlongs. It could have been that they just wanted someone to see them. Maybe that’s why they paid the fee, reblogged the fuck out of it all. Maybe it was because they were genuinely proud and she was a tough grader.

 

Maybe it was because she was hot. (She won’t deny it.)

 

It didn’t matter. What mattered is she was making money, and she was laughing about it all the way to her bank. Good timing, too. Waiting for shoots to pop up so she could advertise leather lingerie got tiresome. Not to mention scant. And rather nipply.

 

By the third week, all her guilt was gone.

 

Especially with all her friends’ blessings.


	2. Chapter 2

Misery loved company. And humor? Well, humor loved company, too. Especially dicky humor.

  
With a lesbian.

 

Marie laughed as Azusa made a face at the newest submission, feigning a gag.

 

“Why do men insist upon sending aerial views of their pitiful dicks?” she asked, reaching for the pretzels and shaking her head.

 

“Because it makes it look bigger. And about twenty times grosser,” Nygus replied, tucking herself against Azusa’s side and reaching into the bowl to steal a few of the treats. Azusa made a face, gently nudging her wife.

 

“Oi. Get your own.”

 

“What’s mine is yours, right, honey?” Nygus said, playfully, grinning and purposefully munching one of the pretzels right in Azusa’s face, getting crumbs down the front of her shirt.

 

“Didn’t we sign a prenup?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Shame,” Azusa said, dryly, but they all knew she didn’t mean a single word of it. Azusa and Nygus had been together for what felt like forever, finding one another back when Azusa was moping over the state of Marie’s straightness.

 

And, while Marie was very much so interested in penises, she was, in fact, not interested in the slightest in the dick in front of her.

 

“Can the two of you get off your honeymoon long enough to give this a rating?”

 

“It’s an F,” Azusa remarked, not even skipping a beat and keeping her gaze focused on Nygus’s. Nygus, at least, rolled her eyes.

 

“It’s not that bad,” she said, to which Azusa could only scoff.

 

“Yeah, okay, but are you forgetting who you’re asking? In case you forgot: lesbian.”

 

“You can still appreciate the aesthetic of a decent looking dick pic,” Marie said, and Azusa couldn’t help but sigh.

 

“Why couldn’t you get Blair to help mod this thing? She’d be all over it.”

“Because Blair has bad taste in penises.”

 

“You’re one to talk,” Nygus muttered, and they all shared a collective moment in remembering the disaster that was Marie’s relationship with Joe.

 

“We don’t talk about that,” she said, quickly, turning her attention back to the most recent dick pic before her. “Come on,” she whined, “I’m supposed to give this dude a rating. And Azusa’s replies have all been to fail them.”

 

“It’s a pretty average picture,” Nygus said, turning on the couch, though not taking her legs off of Azusa’s lap. “I’d give it a C. . .minus.”

 

Marie nodded, tilting her head slightly. “The lighting is rather poor, isn’t it?”

 

“The parts are rather poor,” Azusa said, frankly. “Ambient light isn’t gonna improve it.”

 

“Azusa,” Nygus admonished, but Azusa just shook her head.

 

“Oh, come on! You have to admit that there’s nothing even remotely attractive about a dick. They all look like overgrown mushrooms!”

 

“Some of them look. . .better than others,” Marie tried to defend, but even she started to giggle.

 

“Mushrooms,” Azusa fired back, and Nygus snorted.

 

“Yes, well, this mushroom gets a C- from me.”

 

“Ditto,” Marie said.

 

“F.”

 

“Yes, well, you’re outvoted!” Marie replied, gleefully, and quickly leaned over to type on her laptop.

 

                ‘This is a relatively average dick pic. The person you send it to is unlikely to feel strongly one way or another about it. The top down, aerial view does little to nothing to make this particular photograph stand out. I suggest changing angles, and perhaps doing more than just taking a picture of your penis. Thighs, hips, and stomach are all important components to a decent dick pic!’

 

“You forgot the part where you mention that his dick is ugly,” Azusa said, and Nygus guffawed.

 

“Azusa!”

 

“Well, it is.”

 

“Yeah yeah. Penis bad. Vagina good. We know, Azusa.”

“Glad I made my preferences clear.”

 

Marie shook her head, but she was more amused than anything else. “On to the next one?”

 

“We’ve done like ten today, already. And they all looked the same.”

 

“Well, this is a new blog! If I wanna get more followers, I need to up the ante in the beginning.”

 

“You’re a glutton for punishment,” Azusa accused, and Nygus shook her head.

 

“Maybe she just likes this particular brand of torture, Azusa. Don’t kinkshame her.”

 

“I will kinkshame her all I please. This is almost as bad as the time she said she wanted to lick peanut butter off of Stei-“

 

“Next picture,” Marie cut in, the blush seeming to creep through her entire body, and Nygus snickered. The traitor.

 

Marie went to her inbox, then, and all of them collectively stared, Azusa nodding in approval once the photograph loaded.

 

“Now THAT is a good looking dick pic,” she said, and Marie tilted her head.

 

“That’s. . .a really big strap-on,” she remarked, sounding impressed.

 

“I love the color,” Nygus remarked, then turned to Azusa. “We should get one of those.”

 

“You hate strap ons,” Azusa said, lifting a brow as she looked away from the photograph, giving Nygus an even look.

 

“I mean, usually, but that one looks kind of enticing.”

 

Marie nodded. “And the lighting is gorgeous.”

 

“The question is,” Nygus started, pausing for dramatic effect. “Is it a dick pic?”

 

“Of course it is,” Azusa said. “There’s a dick in it.”

 

“Fair point,” Nygus replied, turning back to the photograph displayed on the screen. She had to admit, it was a rather aesthetically pleasing photograph. It was a more involved view than what they were used to with the other pictures, displaying the person from the tops of their knees up to their ribcage. There wasn’t much to comment upon, there. The most prominent part of the image, of course, was the bright, marbled purple dildo that was standing proudly, the O-ring that kept it in place a stark, clean, glinting silver that seemed to gleam. At the base, a jelly-pink cock ring with a smiley-face on the vibrating nub melded in with the strap on perfectly.

 

“I give it a solid B,” Azusa said. “Impressive, but unimaginative.”

 

Nygus rolled her eyes. “You’re a hard grader. It’s at least an A minus.”

 

“No,” Marie remarked, “it’s definitely B material. There’s nothing really WOW about it, you know?”

 

“You’re just saying that because it’s not mushroomy,” Nygus said, and Marie made an overly offended gasp.

 

“That’s not it at all.”

 

“Mmmhm.”

 

“Well, I’m siding with Azusa,” Marie claimed, already reaching over and setting her fingers down on her laptop keys. “It’s a nice, respectable B.”

 

                ‘This is a lovely image! The colors in particular are very vibrant, and the lighting is good: not too yellow or too strong. I’d recommend, personally, natural sunlight for the next dick pic, as well as perhaps a creative pose! All in all, prospective partners who ask for such an image would certainly not be disappointed!’

 

Marie nodded at her response and leaned back, cracking her knuckles. “Snack break?” she asked, and Nygus gave her an even look.

 

“This entire session has been a snack break.”

 

“Lovely. So that’s a yes!” she said, standing up with a grin.

 

“Nooo,” Azusa moaned, closing her eyes. “Snack break implies there are more.”

 

“Just one more,” Marie promised.

 

“We’ve done so many already,” Azusa reasoned. “Are you even sure that there’s another?”

 

“Of course!” Marie said, but they all knew she hadn’t checked. Regardless, she was already making her way to the kitchen. “Does anyone want lemonade?”

 

“Me,” Nygus called out. “Get tea for the grump.”

 

“I am not a grump. This just isn’t my idea of a fun Friday night,” Azusa said, but Nygus just smiled.

 

“Then why did you accept?”

 

“Because this is Marie and-“ Azusa took a moment to make sure that said woman had moved entirely into the kitchen, and when she saw that she did, Azusa dropped her voice. “-and any excuse to give her a hobby that takes her mind off of Stein is one that I’ll embrace completely.”

 

“I thought you supported them getting together?” she asked, lifting a brow.

 

“I do. I just don’t think it’s ever gonna happen,” Azusa declared, and Nygus nodded.

 

“Probably. And it’s probably for the best.”

 

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t say-“

 

“Okay! Two lemonades and a tea,” Marie chirped, making her way back to the couch and plopping down in front of her laptop, handing over the glasses. Azusa fumbled with her cup of tea, only to have Nygus shoot her a look, cupping the underside to steady it, the heat not bothering her in the slightest.

 

“Thank you,” Nygus said, making her voice as neutral as possible, stretching for a moment before she drank. “So, we have one more left?”

 

“Mhm!” Marie said, sipping at her lemonade, sweetened with about seventeen extra spoonfulls of sugar. She reached over and clicked on the inbox once more, waiting for the messages to load.

 

Azusa sent up a silent prayer up to whoever was looking out for her wellbeing that there was nothing left so she could call it a day and indulge in relatively terrible Romantic Comedies on Marie’s couch: which was what she had agreed to in the first place, besides. She held her breath as Marie leaned forward, and let out a relieved sigh when “NO NEW MESSAGES” flashed back at them, resisting the urge to throw a triumphant fist in the air.

 

Marie’s face fell. “Oh. . .I could have sworn. . .” she started, and Nygus made a consoling noise.

 

“It’s okay, Marie. You’ll get more tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Marie started, forcing a small smile onto her face. “You’re ri-“

 

It was at that moment, Azusa decided, that whoever was looking out for her wellbeing needed to be demoted. Because of course someone would submit something right that very second, and the bing that indicated new messages rang out, lifting Marie’s expression almost immediately.

 

“Oh! Look! Someone submitted something!”

 

Azusa bit back her groan, leaning against Nygus completely and preoccupying herself with sucking down her entire cup of tea in one go, watching as Marie clicked on the refresh button and they waited with not-so-bated breath for the next batch of awful glimpses of male genitalia.

 

Marie double clicked on the attachment, waiting for it to load, leaning forward slightly.

 

And her lower lip dropped down when it finally loaded.

 

“Oh my. . .god.”

 

“Hmm?” Azusa asked, looking up and stopping dead in her tracks when she caught sight of the image. “Holy Buddha, what the hell is that?”

 

“Oh, oh my god,” Marie exclaimed, again, sitting up as she stared at the submission, appreciating the rather tasteful lighting and the prominent V of hipbones. As though the image could beckon every living creature in the general vicinity to witness it, from her side, she heard her cat meow, walking into the room butting their head against her calf. Marie didn’t even look away, gently shushing her cat.

 

“Mr. Muffins, I did not come here for such sass,” she said, absentmindedly as her eye traced over the dip of waist, down down doooown to the hand grasping a thigh, to the shining gleam of metal in. . .was that nine piercings? Good lord, was it warm all of a sudden? Marie reached for her lemonade, tempted to fan herself.

 

Azusa, however, looked less than amused. “It’s a monstrosity,” she claimed, and Marie gasped, whirling toward her partner in crime, accidentally spilling lemonade on her yoga pants and slightly over her T-shirt, reading 'Not A Basic Blonde'.

 

“Azusa! Don’t be cruel! It’s. . .it’s interesting. . .”

 

Azusa and Nygus both turned to regard Marie, who looked a tad too awed. As though she were looking at some famous art piece, perhaps a sculpture of sorts, her eyes were shining, and they moved rapidly over the entire image. Azusa, in particular, felt her jaw drop. She knew that look. Oh, good Jesus she knew that look. She had been friends with Marie since they were twelve years old and Marie smushed a cupcake in her face. She had been friends with Marie when she looked at boys and declared that she wanted them to eat her like a cheesecake. She had witnessed Marie’s open adoration too many times not to notice it now, and though for a second, she could do nothing more than blink blankly at her best friend, the horror overtook her expression almost immediately.

 

“Oh. . .oh, lord, Marie! Marie? You want to hop on THAT?”

 

“I mean, it’s. . .isn’t it kind of amazing?” Marie replied, her eye looking faraway and dreamy.

 

“Marie, it looks like it would be nicknamed The Destroyer. Marie, don't do this. It's horrifying."

 

“MY nickname is the destroyer,” Marie pointed out, her bubble not yet popped. "It's. . .cool."

 

 Azusa could only balk before managing to choke out: “Right. The Destroyers. You'll destroy each other. You two are a match made in heaven.”

 

Except, probably not. While Marie was soft and sweet, with long, curled hair that clearly took all too much time to style, and perfectly done mascara, the image was. . .far more unconventional than she was. Granted, Marie wasn't exactly a 'conservative good girl'. She did photoshoots for blood play and leather and corsets and bondage. She'd called Azusa whilst drunk countless times, saying, always about the same person, 'I just want him to raw me whilst feeding me a honey bun, Azusa, is that too much to ask!?' and 'No, listen, he even ate my ass. Azusa. Azusa, are you listening? Azusa, he actually ate my ass.' and the classic 'I told him if he didn't have a condom we could just do anal but he didn't even do that! What man passes up _anal_? I just wanted it in my butthole, 'Zusa, why does he have to be like this?'

 

Azusa knew way too much, it was true, about just how not conventional Marie was. And yet she still didn't expect her to be interested in some pierced up anaconda. Azusa cringed as she looked back at the picture. The second viewing was no less favorable than the first, she had to admit. In fact, it was probably worse.

 

But, to Marie, she was taking in every tasteful choice in the photograph. Instead of the usual florescent lights that were commonplace in all the other dick pics, this one was mostly dark, with just a few slivers of sunlight falling against the body on display, and they caught the metal in a perfect glint, some of the gems gleaming brightly. Instead of just a top down aerial view, or ribcage to knees, this particular picture showed just about everything. It was very obviously done utilizing a mirror, because the strap of the camera was visible on the man’s shoulder. For the most part, however, his face was entirely cut off. Just a few stray bits of hair, the color near indistinguishable, licking under his ears. The jawline was visible, but just barely so: only enough to show the dark stubble he was sporting.

 

Marie blushed slightly, looking over the slices of sunlight falling against his body, exposing a smattering of treasure trail and providing perfect contrast to the other shadows was rather. . .artistic. And the fact that it was a full body image certainly helped.

 

“That’s not a dick pic,” Nygus said, openly ogling the sight. “That’s a full blown nude.”

 

Marie, however, said nothing. Her attention had gone everywhere: from the prominent hipbones to the well defined arms holding up the camera, to the toned thighs. But it had settled on his dick.

 

“Oh my god,” Marie breathed, once more.

 

Without even asking for consultation with the rest of her merry band of conspirators, she dove for her laptop, hands snatching it and pulling it to her lap so she could better appraise the image.

 

Nygus, of course, was the only unaffected party.

 

“Did Stein just send that in?” she asked, and both of the other women turned to look at her, owl-eyed. The silence could have suffocated

 

“No-“

 

“Oh god, did I just witness Stein’s freakish dick?” Azusa asked, utterly horrified. “Holy shit, I _did_. Ew ew ew ew ew, get it _away_!”

 

Marie had lit up like a candle, previously a light pink, now a bright red. “No!” she insisted, looking as though she wanted to bury her face into her collar and curl up. She was already the color of Spirit’s hair, and only pinking further. “He wouldn’t!”

 

“Someone else could have?” Nygus insisted, leaning over so she could better look at the image. “If there’s anyone who would have that much metal in them, it’s him.”

 

“Who else would have this picture?” Marie squeaked.

 

Nygus shrugged. “Ex-girlfriend?”

 

“Ex-boyfriend?” Azusa chimed in.

 

“The last relationship he had was in college and it lasted two days,” Marie said, defensively, folding her arms over.

 

Azusa and Nygus both looked at each other, choosing, rather wisely, not to mention that Stein could have very well had a hookup between then and now, and was in need of a dick pic to send said prospective partner.

 

Then again, there was a grand total of one person on the planet who was actually interested in the man, and she was sitting before them, looking all too ruffled.

 

“Well, you have to admit,” Nygus started, “it would match pretty well.”

 

“Match? What, like putting names to faces except the names are dicks?” Marie asked, chewing on her lip, but she hadn’t shifted her glance in all the time the image had been uploaded.

 

“Doesn’t he have those weird scarred up tattoos?” Azusa asked. “I don’t see any of that, here.”

 

“Scarification,” Marie said, instantly, beyond well-versed in what Stein did at his piercing shop. “And his are all on his back and upper arms and- what?”

 

“Nothing,” Azusa said, shaking her head. “Just that you know an awful lot of what he looks like under that shirt.”

 

“I-“ Marie squeaked out. “I just- I’ve seen pictures! In his portfolio! I’ve never- not from this angle- I just- not from the front!”

 

“So there’s nothing to identify him?” Nygus asked, looking at the image thoughtfully.

 

Marie shook her head quickly. “No. Everything he would have isn’t in frame.”

 

“How’s this: just ask him?” Nygus started, and Mr. Muffins came over to rub her calf, instead, purring rather loudly, asking for affection. Azusa, however, was the one to pick him up, scratching the top of his head to his delight.

 

“Ask him?” Marie said, incredulous. “Oh, yeah, that would work out perfectly! What am I supposed to do? Walk into his shop and go ‘Hi, Franken, nice to see you. How’re you doing? Oh, and have you ever seen this dick before? I have the suspicion that it’s yours!’ That’s ridiculous! I can’t do that!”

* * *

 

Needle and a Thread tattoo parlor and piercing shop was probably the least inviting place from the outside. It looked nothing like one would assume, standing in between a Jewish Deli and a thrift store. Across from it was a Synagogue as well as a sex shop by the corner. Marie had been to the block multiple times, but this time, she had a very specific purpose. Quickly, she walked her way to the shady looking building, the dark bricks chipping, contrasting with a clean, gleaming chrome door that she shoved open so she could look around for the familiar face of one of her closest friends, as well as her crush, for several years.

 

Stein looked up from what he was doing, polishing some of the silver septum rings in the display, and opened his mouth as though for greeting, but Marie was already making her way forward, her shoulders set and her eyes ablaze. She didn’t even notice, okay, maybe just a little- no, she didn’t even notice the fact that his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, exposing the muscles of his arms for her to definitely not ogle at.

 

“Franken,” she started, all but barreling into the display, raising her voice to be heard over the sound of the rather loud tattoo gun that Spirit was no doubt wielding in the back of the shop.

 

“Hello, Marie-“

 

“I need you to tell me if you’re ever seen this dick before,” she continued, and before he could even chew over the statement, trying to understand what in the world Marie was asking of him, she had already turned her phone over and presented her screen to him, keeping her face as blank as possible.

 

And blank was the only way to describe how Stein looked, as well, as he grasped her phone and held it closer to his face, his glasses sitting off to the side. Because she knew that he was a man who, after working in a shop like his, had heard plenty of strange requests, she didn’t panic. Yet. Because he likely never expected to hear them from Marie Mjolnir of all people, and she was desperately trying not to open her mouth again and say something somehow more embarrassing.

Stein, however, only lifted a single brow when he took in the image, glancing at her lazily. “Why? Do you see something you like?” he teased, the start of a creepy smile starting to curl over his face, and Marie’s voice was all too high pitched.

“What? No! Haha, me? This? No. I just- it was a submission for the blog and- I don’t know, I just figured that you’re one of the only piercers in Death City and you’d recognize it and,” she laughed nervously. “Come on, Franken, don’t tease. Of course I don’t see something I like. What kind of woman do you take me for? I’m not- I’m not into that.”

Stein’s regarded her for a moment, the smile that had threatened to take over his face dying right in front of her, before he shook his head, simply. “You talk too much,” he said, simply, and Marie scowled at him as he continued. “And to answer your question: no. I’d never seen this one, prior to now.”

“Oh,” Marie said, her heart sinking slightly.

Okay, so maybe she had, just the teensiest bit, gotten her hopes up that, possibly, potentially, it would be Stein. But of course it wasn’t. As though the world would ever- and he wouldn’t send one in, either. What was she thinking? As though Frank Stein of all people would ever submit a nude photograph of himself to be put onto the internet and rated—least of all by his closest friend.

And, of course, because the world despised her and enjoyed seeing her suffer, Spirit’s tattoo gun suddenly stopped and his voice rung out.

 

“Hey! Stein! Do we have any of the hard candy out there?”

 

Stein looked away from Marie’s phone to Marie to the skull-shaped bowl full of sweets they kept at the front desk.

 

“Yes!” Stein called back, and Marie heard quiet murmurs coming from the tattoo room before Spirit stepped out, his hair pulled up in a high man bun, a mun, snapping his gloves off. There was stray tattoo ink over his arms, and a smear of black over his cheek, and Marie’s arms felt like lead when she noticed that Stein was still holding up her phone and she immediately wanted to snatch it back, but if she did that, no doubt Spirit would get suspicious. And he was a tickler. The fiend. She was backed into a corner as she looked at him, eyes wide and stomach sloshing about uncomfortably.

 

His brows went up before his expression lightened. “Marie! Hey! Didn’t expect you in the shop. Finally decided to take me up on that tattoo offer?”

 

Marie’s eyelid twitched and she folded her arms in front of her. “I’d rather not have your name on me forever, thanks.”

 

“Eh, your loss! It’s on the house if you decide to,” he said, winking at her before he brought himself behind the counter, snatching up a handful of sweets. “Client’s blood sugar probably dropped to zilch and he didn’t tell me,” Spirit explained to Stein, who looked uninterested. “Don’t our forms say to eat a full meal before coming in to the damn shop?”

 

“People are particularly illiterate,” Stein said, casually, yawning. But Spirit’s attention had shifted.

 

“Hey, what are you looking at? Is it memes again?” Spirit took a moment to look at Marie, grinning.

 

Stein rolled his eyes, looking at Marie. “He didn’t even know what memes were a week ago. He recently discovered doge.”

 

Marie giggled nervously, the response half reflex and half not, her hand coming up to her mouth. “You’re- uh, you’re that late?” she asked, desperate to keep Spirit’s prying, ridiculous eyes away from her phone.

 

But all was lost. The universe despised her. She was never going to live this down and-

 

Spirit stood up on tip toes, looking over Stein’s shoulder to glance at the screen, and he did a double take before a peculiar expression came onto his face.

 

“So you-“

 

“Marie,” Stein interrupted, looking at Spirit flatly, “was just asking if I’d witnessed this phallus previously.”

 

All parties cringed at that. “Do you have to call it that?” Marie huffed, looking away, but Stein didn’t take his eyes off of Spirit.

 

“Well, I mean-“ Spirit started once more, but Stein turned away from him, a thud sounding off in the room before a pained expression came onto Spirit’s face.

 

“And I informed her that I’d never seen it,” Stein said, the slightest sharp tone coming into his voice. “Have you, Spirit?”

 

Marie looked at Spirit for a moment, and it appeared as though the man had gone into a cold sweat before he gave her a grin. “No! Sorry, Marie. I’m sure you’ll find him, though.”

 

“I wasn’t-“ she said, feeling her ears burn, “I wasn’t looking for him! What do you think this is? Some kind of Cinderella story?”

 

“I mean, if the dick fits,” Spirit said, grinning. “I just, you know, have a feeling that whoever that penis belongs to might be closer than you kn-owwwwwww, ow-“ Spirit said, wincing as another thud echoed through the room.

 

“I suggest checking up on your patient before they succumb to hypoglycemia,” Stein said casually, and Spirit glared at him, leaning all his weight onto one foot.

 

“Fine, fine, I’m going,” he said, giving Marie another flirtatious look. “Thanks for brightening my day with your fine face, beautiful.”

 

“Go back to your client, Spirit,” Marie said, shaking her head, trying to keep the unwilling smile that always seemed to pop up from Spirit’s antics at bay.

 

“Anything for a lovely lady,” he said, winking at Marie once more before shooting Stein an irritated look. And with that, he finally turned around, making his way back to the pristine tattoo room that was situated at the end of the shop.

 

“He was acting weird. ..er than usual,” Marie said, rubbing one of her arms to keep herself grounded, feeling Stein’s eyes on her. His gaze was almost never uncomfortable on her, even though it was eerie how he had the talent of looking through people, as though analyzing their very souls with a flat look. She had always just taken it in stride, finding everything about Stein that others regarded as strange as interesting, instead.

 

Now, however, she couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of her. She had a sinking feeling it wasn’t very positive, anymore.

 

Stein shrugged. “He seemed the same as usual,” he replied, and Marie gave him a shaky smile.

 

“You only say that because you’re the oddball of the two of you,” she teased, lightheartedly, and he gave her an unreadable look.

 

“I had believed that I was the oddball of us two, as well. But it would seem that isn’t the case.”

 

Marie cringed, watching as Stein finally put the image down. “It’s. . .uh, just for the blog, you know? Give the viewers what they want.”

 

Stein regarded her evenly before he nodded. “I should suggest your blog to some of my patients. I recently performed a meatotomy.”

 

Marie cringed. “I have no idea what that is, but it can’t be very fun.”

 

“It’s when one splits the underside of the glans and-“

 

“Ooookay, got it, fun times to be had for all involved,” she said, grabbing up her phone and putting it in her back pocket. “And as. . .um, lovely as that sounds, I’d rather not-“

 

“I took several pictures of the procedure, of course. I can submit them-“

 

Marie laughed, feeling just the tiniest bit lighter that he was back to his normal, teasing self, which was finally evident when he allowed his lips to twitch into a devious smile.

 

“I’ll take a raincheck. Are we still on for Friday Movie Night?”

 

“Only if you aren’t preoccupied with being surrounded by various other dicks.”

 

“Don’t worry,” she said, grinning. “You’re the only dick I’d wanna be surrounded by.”

 

The innuendo, it seemed, was not lost on him.

 

Not that he ever acted on it.

 

But a girl could joke.

* * *

 

 

Blair looked at the image critically, tilting her head and petting Mr. Muffins.

 

“It is definitely his,” she said, finally, and Marie made an offended sound in the back of her throat.

 

“Oh, come on-“

 

“Told you,” Nygus commented, popping some popcorn into her mouth before casually snatching the bowl off of Azusa’s lap, who shuddered.

 

“Why are we looking at this thing again? Haven’t I suffered enough?” she asked, cringing.

 

“I don’t know,” Blair said, tilting her head and leaning forward a little. “He’s a pretty appealing tomcat.”

 

“Could you get your weird furry talk out of here?” Arisa complained, pouting.

 

“Well. ..she’s right,” Risa replied, and Marie buried her face in her hands.

 

“He said he’d never seen it before.”

 

“He’s lyyyyying,” Blair said. “But, you know, he’s way more impressive than Spirit.”

 

“Who isn’t more impressive than Spirit?” Nygus asked, shrugging when Azusa made a disgusted face. “We’ve all seen the pictures.”

 

“He’s not so bad,” Blair remarked, yawning daintily and folding her long legs.

 

“Isn’t Stein Jewish?” Risa asked, moving closer to the screen.

 

“He doesn’t practice,” Marie mumbled, peeking out from behind her fingers to spot Risa about to trace some of the more intimate details on the screen. Marie squeaked, instantly slapping her friend’s hand away. “That’s- don’t do that, that’s- it’s weird,” she babbled, and Arisa cackled.

 

“Yeah, Risa. Hands off the merch. Property of Mjolnir,” she giggled, and Marie colored more.

 

“Stop being an ass, Arisa!” she said, throwing one of her couch cushions at the woman, much to her heinous yelp.

 

“He’d be circumcised then, wouldn’t he?” Blair asked, feeling no shame as Arisa grasped her arm and whimpered for help. Blair, however, only leaned forward more. “Aaaaand he is! It’s totally him.”

 

“Guys,” Marie whined, going to close the laptop.

 

“Oh, c’mon, sugar, ain’t no shame,” Blair said casually, smiling. “If you don’t wanna ride to find out, I’ll take one for the team-“

 

“Don’t you dare,” Marie said, and she looked a tad too fierce. But Blair only grinned smugly.

 

“Well,” Risa piped up from beside her. “That means you’ll just have to, now won’t it? We’re all dying to know.”

 

“Guys- it’s not- we’re not like that,” Marie said, huffing and folding her arms in front of her. “Let’s just- ugh, let’s just rate the next one.”

 

“Wait,” Arisa said, immaculately plucked brows furrowing. “You aren’t going to put this one up?”

 

“It’s gotten. . .mixed reviews.”

 

“I mean, for size, I’d give it an A,” Risa remarked, tilting her head in the other direction.

 

“And he’s ribbed for her pleasure,” Blair commented, sending both Risa and Arisa into a giggling fit, which caused Marie to throw another pillow at the threesome.

 

“Oh my GOD, I can’t ever hang out with you guys!” she said, but Nygus was downright cackling, covering up the sound of the three women shrieking at being hit by the pillow and Marie’s burning face and embarrassed dialogue.

 

“This,” Nygus said, throwing a piece of popcorn down her wife’s shirt, “is why I come to these things.”

 

Azusa groaned. “They act like toddlers.”

 

“They’re entertaining,” Nygus remarked, gleefully, and Azusa rolled her eyes.

 

“Yeah, well, entertaining or not, this has turned into an episode of how many people can Marie rope into her blog.”

 

“I’m excited to find out!” Nygus said, before turning to see Risa getting smacked directly into Blair’s lap, Mr. Mittens hissing and jumping off to Azusa. Marie reared up to smack the group of them with the embroidered, fringed throw pillow once more, her eyes closed in utter mortification.

 

“Nice hit, Marie!”

 

“Don’t encourage her,” Azusa groaned, covering her eyes with a hand. “And can someone PLEASE take Stein’s gross dick pic off the damn screen?”

 

“Nah,” Nygus said, grinning. “It’s good for bonding.”

* * *

 


	3. Chapter 3

Marie absolutely, positively, on her life did not pull out THE dick pic on occasion just to look at it. No. Not her. She certainly didn’t bring it out when she was trying to decide if any of the pictures she was being sent were worthy of an A. And she would never, never bring it out just to slid her fingers beneath the waistband of her skirt. Or, in this case, cat pajamas.  

 

Marie was a good woman. Wholesome. A good woman who modeled fetish footwear and latex underpants and didn’t wear a bra most of the time while the camera was on. A woman who, maybe possibly got hornier than she had ever been in her entire life the one time she had a shoot with Stein who had been her piercer for a splash piece in a fetish magazine featuring her covered in blood and a beautiful spread of play piercings done on her back and chest.

 

NOT that she’d come home and think of the way his hands felt on her skin. Not that she ever thought about that. She was a good woman. A Good. Woman. And good women didn’t jill off to pictures of a random man’s naked body who just so happened to have an oddly impressive dick that she wanted to be Stein’s.

 

Not her. No sir.

 

Only sometimes.

 

It was said sometime that she was on her couch, again, laptop open to the photograph, _again,_ TV screen showing Love Actually, _again!_ And she had her hand in her neon pink cat pjs with a picture of a said kitty on, well, her kitty, and she had wished she’d taken her vibrator with her into the living room but, hey, her cat was on her bed, and the last thing she was going to do was shove her pussy off so she could get her pussy off. Mr. Muffins could scratch.

 

Instead, it was easier just to let her fingers play over herself as she slid down farther against the cushions, biting her lip and opening her eyes every once in a while to remember what the image looked like before she closed her eyes once more and imagined- imagined-

 

_“Marie, you’re so wet. Marie- Marie-“_

 

Certainly not _knocking._

 

“Marie, open the door,” she heard, and her bubble was completely popped.

 

Fuck.

 

_Fuck._

Movie night.

 

How could she forget? Oh, shit. She’d gotten into the wine early, that night, too. And she was going to spend it horny. Maybe she could sneak off to her bathroom? No, Stein had ears like a hawk, especially if he was high.

 

“Marie? Did you drown in your wine?”

 

“Um- no!” she called back. “Sorry, Mr. Muffins threw up on my leg. I’ll- uh, be a second!”

 

Right. Real sexy. Cat throw up. She was doing great.

 

Not that she was trying to be sexy for Stein. She’d long since given up that particular game. The man was more interested in her being who she was than turning into some sexed up Barbie doll for him. She couldn’t say the same for most of the other men she’d had the misfortune of meeting. They didn’t even eat her box.

 

The thought of that made her groan as she rushed to her kitchen to wash her hands. Usually, she was rather squirty, but her couch had been spared this time. She was early enough in that she didn’t turn the carpet into Sea World. Yet.

 

The truth was that- well, it wasn’t like she and Stein hadn’t fooled around, before. He knew her signs. Would know instantly what the scent was. He’d been rather up close and personal with her bits before. But not in a romantic way, much to her displeasure. More in a ‘I don’t need to have the munchies to want to eat you’ way. And, goodness knew she was grateful. She was, she assured herself as she washed and dried her hands at the sink, using a heavily scented soap before she scampered off to spray perfume everywhere.

 

It was just

 

well.

 

He never let her touch him.

 

She got it. Personal space. Sure. Maybe he was just being selfless. Maybe he was waiting till marriage. But he had worn her thighs like earmuffs more times than she could even _count_ in the past and she hadn’t so much as seen him with his boxers off. Not even pictures. The most she’d gotten was the feel of him, hard, so _hard_ , and big against her thigh when he’d come up to leave hickies over her neck and she felt like a puddle of goop. She’d bought some condoms, just in case, picking up the largest size, but she never had need for them. Thinking of it, she felt her heartbeat between her legs, reminding her that, in fact, she was still horny.

 

Sighing, Marie put it behind her. It had been months since then. Closer to a year, actually, since the last time he’d proven to her that other guys? Not a comparison.

 

It had been two months since the dick pic rating blog went up, too, and a month since she asked him if he sent one in, hoping that, maybe, that was his cue, his sign, that he was ready for her to see him naked and they could do it and get married and have twelve kids and he could eat her box, but lovingly this time. They were practically married to one another, anyway. Goodness knew.

 

“Marie,” he knocked again, as though to prove her point. “If you require assistance cleaning up the vomit-“

 

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” she said, rolling her eye and finally making her way to her door to open it and see him holding a pizza. Salvation. What was it about men that made them infinitely more attractive when they had their sleeves rolled up and foot in their arms? God.

 

“You look remarkably well for being vomited on,” he commented, walking in, and she sighed.

 

“Thanks. You look nice, too.”

 

But he didn’t reply, merely looking around and- “Were you masturbating?”

 

“Frank!” she said, voice sharp as she snatched the pizza from him, huffing. “Not your business.”

 

“You didn’t have to lie about your cat,” he only replied, easily. “The VCH still holding up?”

 

She knew she shouldn’t be blushing, but damnit, she was. He’d been the one to pierce her, she didn’t trust anyone else to do it, just a simple, titanium j-curve piece of jewelry with amber and moonstone gems that gleamed in her hood. He even took a picture afterward, claiming it was for his portfolio. He asked first, naturally. For all of Stein’s quirks and oddness, he always made sure to respect her boundaries.

 

Speaking of pictures, however-

 

Marie yelped when she noticed that her laptop was still open, the image on the screen the dick pic she’d been sent a month ago, and she immediately took a few large strides over, closing her laptop and letting the pizza box fall onto her table, nearly disrupting her glass of wine. He lifted a brow at her.

 

“I take that as a yes. You’re fond of that picture.”

 

“I thought this was movie night, not twenty questions,” Marie said, folding her arms across her chest, a motion Stein followed with his eyes, but seemingly lazily.

 

“Fine. I’d apologize but I’m not sorry,” he told her, waiting until she looked exasperated with him to crack a grin. “Is my bong still where I left it?”

 

“Yeah, in the bathroom. Under the cabinet,” she told him, walking back over to her couch as he moseyed his way to the bathroom, and she plopped down. Love Actually was finishing up and she pouted, reaching for the remote with one hand and for a slice of pizza with another. After a moment, hearing him rummage about, she reached for her wine bottle, instead, just as Stein came out holding his bong. It was a pretty thing, truthfully, glass with swirls of silver and green.

 

And, as always, she drank while he set up his bong, pulling out the weed he’d brought with him from his back pocket. He always worked so meticulously, and it truthfully looked really cool while she was getting tipsy, so instead of worrying about a movie, she went ahead and simply watched him as he sat beside her, near thigh to thigh, and took a hit.

 

After a moment, as he retained the smoke, he looked at her. “Want some?”

 

Ever the gentleman. Marie shook her head as she always did. “Weed makes me crazy,” she said.

 

“Wine makes _me_ crazy. And life in general.”

 

“Mmm,” she replied, taking another sip. “Did you have a preference for a movie?”

 

“Not particularly. Anything is fascinating stoned out of your mind,” he told her, rolling his shoulders.

 

“How about Dear John?” She was in the mood for crying her feelings out and blaming it on cinema. He was right there, beside her, so familiar, so close, and yet-

 

“Is that another cheesy romcom?” he asked, stretching his arms over his head, and she nodded, pouring herself another glass of wine.

 

“Thought you had no preference?”

 

“I don’t,” he assured, so she held her wine glass with one hand and flicked through the movies with the other, finally selecting the film and tossing the remote to the side in favor of curling her legs under her, leaning in closer to him.

 

Life was a bitch. But at least in movies people could still find love.

* * *

She had ugly cried in her cat pajamas. Again.

 

Maybe this was why she was single, the only sober part of her mind told her, but, of course, it only lasted for a moment. Stein had seen her sob over Pringles before. He was good at dealing with it at that point. To remedy the situation, he had immediately turned the film off, already stoned to the point where his movements were sluggish, but not so dulled he was being stupid. The sweet spot.

 

After he did so, he’d asked her what she wanted, to which she’d replied a bubble bath with a bath bomb from Lush, to which he informed her she’d probably drown in a cup of water if she weren’t careful. Then she asked for pizza while she was eating it. Then made a lewd comment about his cock. Then another. Then saw Mr. Muffins come out of her room, probably to his pre-filled food bowl, but she’d said “KITTY!” and chased after him, cuddling an unwilling cat in her arms until Stein gently dislodged the poor creature. Mr. Muffins loved Stein. Even curled up in his lap for a solid 5 minutes, purring as Stein absentmindedly pet him. So, naturally, Marie had to make another lewd comment referencing her pussy before asking if she could play with his joystick to which he replied that her PS4 was still on the fritz.

 

And then.

 

Well.

 

She roped him into her blog, too.

Marie giggled, reaching for some popcorn that Stein had made after all the pizza was gone, and he, in turn, tilted his head. “D minus,” he replied after a moment.

“Mmm? Why? The lighting’s not too bad.”

“Because I’m uninterested in penises,” he said, simply, and Marie tsked, throwing a piece of popcorn directly at his nose.

“Oh, don’t pull an Azusa on me!”

“You did perfectly fine when she was here, as well,” he pointed out, flicking the piece of popcorn away as it landed on his shirt, but not before staring at it for a solid thirty seconds with full scrutiny, and Marie couldn’t reply to that in the negative. The blog had grown and grown, going so far as for people to pay for her opinions on their pictures.

Not that it did anything for her own love life.

“Yeaaaaaaah, well, she didn’t make it easy,” Marie said, but she settled back, shoving some popcorn in her mouth. “It’s probably a- a C+,” she followed up, partially muffled by the snacks.

“What was that?” Stein teased, his glasses glinting. “A she bus?”

Marie, in return, opened her mouth as she chewed noisily, gnashing her teeth even as Stein snorted, grabbing  handful of popcorn for himself, as well. “Attractive.”

She swallowed before answering, daintily folding her legs and batting her eyelashes at him. “You really think so?

“When was the last time you visited your dentist? Your molars are-“

“Mean! My- my teeth are nice. So it’s a C plus? We’re settled on a C plus?” she asked, huffing slightly, swaying. “And my molars are fine, thank you very much! My dentist says I have excellent teeth.”

“Perhaps he’s in need of an ophthalmologist.”

“Don’t- using your med-school lingo on me. Last I checked, you’re a piercer.”

“A lot of medical information is needed for that profession,” he pointed out, and she would be amazed that he had so much eloquence whilst high if it weren’t for the fact that he always got like that. Chatty. But smart chatty.. It was kind of hot. “And I’m not a ‘piercer’. Piercers are barred by law from performing scarification and ear pointing.”

“And tongue splits?” Marie asked, lifting a blond brow and sloshing some of her wine, to which Stein only grinned. He’d told her about those in efforts to gross her out, about how people would sit with nothing more than a cup beneath their chin so that the blood could have a place to collect.

“Those are done on the sly.”

“Mmmm, Mr. Rebel Without a Cause. Troublemaker,” she hummed, hiccupping.

“The cause is to go against ridiculous legalities which state that, even with the degree I currently posses, I am prohibited to use ‘dermal’ in any procedure I take part in-“

“Because dermal means skin and-“ she hiccupped, again, tasting sour grapes, taking a second before she continued, the words jumbling in her throat before she remembered them. He’d said it enough to her, a rant she was all too familiar with. “Piercers aren’t allowed to work with flesh in- in that way because there’s no exit point,” she recited, grinning at the fact that she could actually do so without a hitch. “Heeeeey, I remembered!”

He looked at her for a long moment, seemingly unblinking, but her smile didn’t go away. Because, truthfully, she didn’t much mind. The best part about Stein was that he never found her weird or strange, like everyone else did. Frankly, that was probably because he was infinitely more odd than she was, but they made a good pair in that way.

Or- no, not pair. Marie felt her face warm slightly, suddenly all too focused on his achingly green eyes. Not a pair. Just a- a duo. Yes. A pair implied romance, didn’t it? They weren’t involved like that. He was- he was Stein. He’d eaten her box but never told her he loved her. One would think she’d be more flustered at the former rather than the latter.

Truthfully, everyone found Marie’s strangest quirk the fact that she was attracted to him. He wasn’t exactly conventionally handsome. Too tall and lanky to pass as an Aero pastel model by a long shot, wiry and thin. He was prematurely gray since high school, hair silvering in the light even when he was just fourteen, when she first met him. His most attractive feature was probably his eyes, framed by sparse silver eyelashes, the orbs flecked with the slightest warmth near the pupil and-

Oh, gods, she was staring at him, again.

She didn’t have much to worry about, however. Stein wasn’t the kind of man to get hung up on that. After all, with his facial scar and his profession, the way he dressed, the things he did: he was long accustomed to being gawked at. And she had the added benefit of definitely being drunk, so he’d probably forgive most of what she said.

 

“You should get to bed,” he said, simply, and Marie shook her head, like a child. The strap to her tank top slid down and she only felt his hand come to her arm to slide it back up on the shoulder. In a spark of defiance, and attempted seduction, she purposefully yanked it back down again.

 

Okay, so the last time she got laid was way too long ago and she was still kind of horny and he was a good guy who may not be the owner of the dick picture that she got off to but, damnit, she could handle that. She didn’t like Stein for his dick. Though she’s sure his is nice.

 

“I need to rate another one.”

 

“Your inbox is empty, Marie,” he said, amused, and she was sure if he had a joint between his fingers, that’s when he’d take the hit. She muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “yeah, my other box is empty, too” but if he heard, he made no comment.

 

“Come, Marie,” he said, and she bit her lip, really wanting to do little more than that, but he scootched in closer to her and wrapped an arm around her so he could help her up and because she was stupid, because she couldn’t stop thinking, and because he smelled nice and she was lonely, damnit, there’s only so much fucking yourself to a picture can _do-_

 

she brought her hand down, to his thigh and then closer between them. “Maybe I can rate yours?” she offered, her eye half lidded before she felt his hand on her wrist, gentle.

 

“Marie, no,” he said, and she huffed, the frustration mounting.

 

“I- you never let me touch you. You never let me _see_ you.”

 

“You see me, now.”

 

“Not like- not like that! Not- naked,” she said, shaking her head and trying to get up on her own, only to wobble on her feet and come back down to the cushions heavily.

 

“You never truly want to. You only ever wish to do so whilst drunk,” he told her, and she wanted to say that wasn’t true. She always wanted him. She was just- too much of a coward to admit it to him while sober.

 

“I’m not- that drunk.”

 

“You can’t consent if you’re drunk, Marie. You don’t want this.”

 

“But-“

 

“If I won’t pierce someone who’s had alcohol, I won’t fuck you when you have, either.”

 

“You wouldn’t fuck me, anyway,” she said, near bitterly, yanking her hand away. He sighed.

 

“Marie-“

 

“I don’t get it!” she said, her wine glass, empty, slipping out of her hands and onto the carpet, thankfully not shattering. “You- you keep your bong here. I talk to your mom. She calls me her daughter. You- you’ll get your oral fixation out of me but never let me touch you. You’ve felt my unshaved legs! You said they were nice! I don’t- I don’t understand!”

 

He looked at her for a long while, the warm, rosy feeling from the weed settling down and clarity coming back, seeing Marie looking so upset. “You need to sleep,” he only said, and she whined at the thought, turning her back to him, but he shook his head, standing up so he could better help her, as well, and she only wiggled her butt deeper into the cushions.

 

“I don’t wanna!”

 

“You need to sleep, Marie. You’ve had a whole bottle.”

 

“No!” she reiterated, and Stein breathed out through his nose noisily, likely frustrated with her antics before he stooped down and grabbed her round the waist, lifting her up effortlessly.

 

Oh. It was times like then that she remembered that he once worked as a bartender and a bouncer. Because he adjusted her without a hitch, only paying attention to her squeak to make sure that she was situated comfortably in his arms, and she breathed in deep, burying her face against his shoulder, feeling the subtle bounces that indicated he was walking.

 

“Are you dizzy?” he asked, and she thought for a moment.

 

“Little bit,” she muttered against his shirt.

 

“If you’d like, I can go home-“

 

“No- you can- you should- stay.”

 

“Spare pants still where I left them?” he asked, knowing full and well he had too many shirts and sleep shorts and the likes at her home. Even an extra toothbrush. They may only schedule movie nights together, but they see each other more often than most.

 

“Mhm,” she replied, sighing blissfully as she melted against him, but the feeling was disrupted when he finally lowered her down onto her bed, having entered her bedroom in no time at all. As he went to move away, likely to grab his pants so he could sleep on the couch, she grabbed onto his arm with both hands. And, drunk or not, girl could lift, so it wasn’t exactly a light touch. He looked back down at her.

 

“Hm?”

 

“I- _stay_ ,” she emphasized, giving him the big puppy dog eye, but he shook his head once more.

 

“Marie-“

 

“I just- what you said wasn’t true, okay?”

 

“Marie,” he repeated, in that same frustrating tone of voice he always used, the one that meant he was going to repeat what he had said before, but with more fucking emphasis. Asshole.

 

“No, I- I always want you.”

 

“Yes, I’m so inclined to believe you when your BAC is at-“

 

“I don’t care what level my BAC is! I still- Frank-Frank, don’t tuck me in, I’m not a child!”

 

“You wouldn’t know it from how many times you drunkenly called me ‘daddy’.”

 

“I said I was sorry.”

 

“Rest, Marie. Talk to me in the morning.”

 

“I-“ but he was wearing that expression that told her she would get nowhere that night, and her eye stung with something she didn’t want to acknowledge, so she turned around, let her back face him, hugging her pillow. “Fine. Fine, whatever.”

 

He didn’t sound happy when he said ‘okay’ but he did decide to respect her wishes and went to walk away.

 

“You know,” she said, sure he wasn’t paying attention, “being in love with you _sucks.”_

She could hear the rummaging stop, but she thought nothing of it. She was beyond caring. She’d told him she loved him before, the way two friends would, but never that she was _in_ love with him. Passing fancies of horniness she knew he could glaze over, their friendship an excuse for her affection.

 

But she didn’t care. A while ago, she had decided that she would make it this grand confession, if she ever decided to tell him, but never got around to it. The blog happened and his job field started getting more popular with the newest crowd of millennials coming to live in the neighborhood and- he didn’t need to know.

 

 Marie felt her eyelid get heavy before she sighed into her pillow, and only when she was asleep did he finally leave.

* * *

 

She woke up to the kind of hangover most people died from and a gross taste in her mouth and the scent of food in the air and aspirin, as well as a glass of water, on her bedside table. No note, though.

 

Marie groaned. She really needed to lay off the wine for a while.

 

Pouring herself out of bed and having the medicine, she went to her bathroom to piss and noticed that everything was neat and tidy, cabinet closed with the bong stored away, toilet lid down. God, if he ever got his head out of his ass, she’d be more than happy to date him. Instead, she had a feeling that he was probably in the kitchen, likely going to ignore everything. . .if anything much of importance happened last night, anyway, save for her embarrassingly poor seduction techniques. She needed to put on a slinky dress and go to a club to get laid, but she wasn’t about to risk getting roofied, and her only slinky dress wouldn’t fit over her ass anymore.

 

Plus, did she really want another disappointing hookup? If her blog taught her anything, it was that men were, by and large, unimpressive. Ugh.

 

“Hey? You up?” she called, walking into the kitchen, making sure to scratch her butt out of sight.

 

But no one was in the kitchen, or on her couch. Or. . .anywhere, really. Her brows furrowed.

 

“Frank?”

 

Nothing answered her.

 

“If this is another one of your pranks-“ and then she saw the pink post it note on her laptop and she padded over. Picking it up, she squinted to read his horrible chicken scratch.

 

_Marie,_

_Made breakfast. Tried not to poison it. No promises. You signed your kidney to my name in your will, if you remember. Your liver, too. I’d rather get it in one piece rather than completely dissolved from wine. I fed your ~~pussy~~ ~~Mr. Muffins~~ your feline companion, do not worry. Had to go to work. Changed your background and screensaver to the photograph you love so much. Perhaps you should find him._

_Stein._

Marie flipped the note over, maybe to see if there was something on the other side, but there was nothing, and she sighed, looking at her kitchen where, undoubtedly, there would be toast and eggs waiting for her.

 

She tossed the piece of paper off to the side, somewhere behind her as she went to eat.

 

Life sucked when all you wanted was to feed your damn pussy and no one would give it a treat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all are still reading this mess?


	4. Chapter 4

It was only two days later that she decided that she hated the universe. If there was anything Marie hated more than waking up at noon, it was waking up before noon. Like at 4 in the morning, a time she only really knew existed because she’d stayed up long enough to witness it, not wake to it. There was a first time for everything, she supposed, because here she was, listening in to her ringtone as it blared in her ear. She’d fallen asleep on her couch, again, when she was looking over some new submissions to the blog and immediately sat up, groping for the damn phone.

 

“Mhello?” she mumbled, wiping some drool away from her chin. “Marie Mjolnir.”

 

“. . .Marie?”

 

“. . .yes?”

 

“Um. . .it’s. . .uh, it’s Joe.”

 

“. . .hi,” she said, flatly. The silence stretched for a few minutes. “Well, I’m going to hang up, now-“

 

“Wait!”

 

“What?” she all but snarled, falling back against her couch cushions and looking at the dark computer screen in front of her. “I’m busy.”

 

“I didn’t call for pleasantries.”

 

“Good. I can’t get much pleasure out of this. But what else is new, huh?” she asked, stabbing the knife in. And, okay, maybe that was a low blow. In certain ways, it wasn’t his fault that she could never finish when they were still dating.

 

Okay, yes, it was his fault. But she wasn’t petty.

 

Only a little bit. Asshole shouldn’t have broken up with her.

 

“Marie-“

 

“Goodbye, Joe,” she emphasized, pulling her phone away and going to hit the ‘End Call’ button on the touch screen, but she heard some garbled mumbo jumbo that had her brows furrowing.

 

“IcalledbecauseSteinandSpiritareinthestation.”

 

Marie blinked once. Twice. Brought the phone back to her ear.

 

“. . .you did what with the who?” she asked.

 

Joe sighed. “Stein and Spirit are being held at the station. It’s. . .you should come get them. Bail them out.”

 

“They’re. . .at the police station?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“. . .I’m gonna fucking kill them.”

* * *

 

“What if she asks what we did?” Stein muttered miserably from his spot across Spirit in the small holding cell, and Spirit looked at Stein incredulously.

 

“We lie. Duh.”

 

“I can’t lie to Marie.”

 

“You can and you have to.”

 

“I can’t-“

 

“You won’t. You mean. You’re physically able to-“

 

“I have my doubts-“

 

“You’ve lied to her before. That picture-“

 

“That picture shouldn’t have even been seen by her-“

 

“Yeah well-“

 

“And this is different, how will I live down-“

 

The sharp clack of the door opening somewhere in the distance instantly quieted the two men, both of them holding their breaths and listening in.

 

“Ah, Marie, good evenin-“

 

“Cut the crap, Joe. Where are they and what do I have to do to get them out?”

 

“Pleasant seeing you, too.”

 

“We don’t get pleasantries after you broke up with me. When my Mom was in the hospital.”

 

“. . .I said I was sorry.”

 

“For chemo.”

 

“. . .I said I was. . .really sorry.”

 

Stein and Spirit looked at each other. They knew Marie and Joe didn’t have the greatest relationship, not after Joe dumped her a good few years ago, but Marie knew how to hold a grudge.

 

“Maybe she’ll be more pissed at him than she is at us?” Spirit asked, and Stein looked at him.

 

“Not likely.”

 

“A man can hope-“

 

The door closest to them came open and they listened in to the sound of Marie’s heels sharply clacking over the concrete before she came before their holding cell, glowering at them through the bars as Joe stood silently by, awkwardly fiddling with his keys.

 

They all had to give her this, however: she looked damn good for 4:23 in the morning, hot damn. Likely in efforts to make Joe feel awful all over again for breaking up with her, she had dressed up in a beautiful short dress, the kind that cinched in at the waist and flared out at the hips, her heels a pair of tall boots that came up over her knee. With shoulders for the most part exposed and her cleavage rather distracting, as well as hair somehow perfectly curled and eyeshadow expertly applied, she was certainly a sight for sore eyes.

 

Er, literally. Considering the black eye, eyes, in Spirit’s case, that were starting to purple on both the men in the cell.

 

Stein was the first one to open his mouth, but even that action irritated her.

 

“What the hell, you two? What the fuck happened? What did you do?”

 

“I-“ Spirit started, but Marie rolled her eyes.

 

“Oh, as if you’d actually tell me. Joe?”

 

“They were in a fist fight,” the man replied instantly, and Stein and Spirit gave him matching unamused looks as though to call him a traitor without actually using words.

 

“With who?”

 

“Each other.”

 

At that, Marie turned to the two miserable men in the holding cell. “Why were you two fighting each other?”

 

“We weren’t fighting each other.”

 

“Joe?”

 

“They were fighting each other.”

 

“Come on, man, what happened to the bro code?” Spirit asked, but was mostly ignored.

 

“Where?”

 

“In a-“

 

“Don’t you dare, dude,” Spirit pleaded. “Don’t you remember that you owe me a solid?”

 

“The solid is getting you out of this jail cell-“

 

“Someone just tell me where these two idiots were beating each other up?”

 

Stein and Spirit looked at each other, both of them wiggling in their seats somewhat uncomfortably. “You see-“

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake- It was in Denny’s, Marie.”

 

“Denny’s?” she asked, looking at Stein, who had, at this point, betrayed both his bro-in-arms and himself. “Why? You hate Denny’s.”

 

“I hate Denny’s,” Stein assured. “We were hungry.”

 

“So you gave each other a knuckle sandwich?”

 

At that, all three men laughed, but it was clearly forced and Marie scowled, muttering something that sounded like ‘you didn’t have to make it so unconvincing,” but it was too late and the quiet had settled in once more.

 

“No,” Spirit squeaked. “Marie, can we- I mean, in the morning, maybe?”

 

“The two of you should have been home.”

 

“Yes. We should have been. But Spirit insisted upon getting drinks when his patient tipped him-“

 

“Those were some good drinks, Marie. I can treat you- ow! Stop fucking elbowing me, jackass-“

 

“Shut up, Spirit-“

 

“Are they drunk?” Marie asked, unamused.

 

“Not in the slightest-“ Spirit tried to say.

 

“Pshhh-“

 

“Yeah, a little,” Joe admitted, and Marie groaned, covering her face.

 

“Okay. Alright. Okay. Do I sign off on them or what?”

 

“Just. . .get them out of here.”

 

“My uber is waiting outside,” Marie said, watching as Joe nodded, grasping his keys so he could open the cell and Stein and Spirit stood up, looking at Marie gratefully. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. The two of you owe me Uber money. And a damn aspirin for all the trouble.”

 

“I’ll cover the aspirin,” Stein said, immediately, and because Spirit was undoubtedly drunk, he muttered that he’d pay for the Uber. Marie shook her head before throwing each arm between the two of them, threading herself arm and arm with them and making her way out, half dragging the two.

 

“Goodnight, Joe.”

 

“Hey. . .Marie?” he started, and Marie paused, looking over her shoulder.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Look, I know we. . .left off on a bad foot-“

 

“You broke up with me on my birthday. By text. After my last cat died.”

 

“Yeah. Sorry about that. Really sorry. But, you know, to make it up to you, maybe we could. . .I don’t know. . .go to dinner?” he asked, looking a tad too hopeful for Marie’s tastes.

 

She looked at him critically, barely noticing how Stein tightened his hold around her arm, before she shook her head. “Yeah, about that. I mean, I might consider it if you ever gave head. But, what was that phrase you once used? Over your dead body,” she remarked, straight faced, and when Joe’s expression dropped, she grinned at him. “Have a good night now! Maybe your fursuit can keep you company! Might show you where to find the G-spot that you think is a myth,” and walked out of the station.

 

If she’d just looked up, maybe she’d have noticed Stein and Spirit both looking over their shoulders, sticking their tongues out at Joe.

 

But she was a tad too busy herding the two men to the backseat of an uber, giving the driver an exasperated look.

 

“Please, don’t ask.”

* * *

 

Oh, she’d considered dumping the both of them at Spirit’s place and calling it a day, but after she herded Spirit into his home, where too many panties were to be anything but an ‘I wear panties’ fetish, she decided that, hey, Stein had done her a solid all the times _she_ was drunk, maybe she could return the favor.

 

So, by the time Stein woke up, Marie was already in her kitchen, cooking up bacon, humming softly to herself . He woke with his face practically stuck to her leather couch, his cheek adhered to the cushion and his legs cramped in like nobody’s business.

 

His first thought was that it was odd that his home smelled so overwhelmingly like pork. The second was that he wasn’t home. And the third was that he was obviously in his home away from home, considering he’d crashed at Marie’s house more often than not in all the time the two of them had been friends.

 

Stein made a strange, unintelligible sound and he heard Marie stop whatever she was doing to poke her head out and look at him.

 

“Oh. Welcome to the world of the living. There’s bacon. And aspirin for your hangover.”

 

“Bacon? I’m Jewish,” he mumbled, sitting up and running a hand through his hair as he reached for the medicine, his head throbbing dully, but not as bad as if he’d gotten well and fully wasted.

 

Good sign.

 

“You haven’t observed in years,” Marie said, cheerfully, watching him get up and stretch. “Your mother told me.”

 

“Has anyone ever mentioned that it’s odd that you and my mother have weekly conversations?” he asked, scratching at his chest, and she watched the motion before shrugging.

 

“Not my fault you don’t call her and she’s lonely and wants updates,” Marie said simply, walking her way back into the kitchen as he followed after her. Stein looked at the table she’d set.

 

“There’s only one plate?”

 

“I said there was bacon. Never said I made enough for two,” she replied, sitting down and buttering her toast. Stein, in response, only stretched, cracking his neck before he reached for the breakfast goods she had laid out near the stove.

 

“What did I do?” he asked, knowing Marie was usually more than happy to play Domestic Goddess with him.

 

“Oh, I don’t know. Does a drunken fist fight in Denny’s sound familiar?”

 

Stein stopped everything he was doing. “Fuck.”

 

“Fuck is right. And you never told me what all happened so,” she indicated, pointing at the seat across from her just as he turned to look at her. “Cook some breakfast, pour some coffee, and have story time because I bailed your ass out at 4 in the morning and I deserve an explanation, yes?”

 

“No,” he said, immediately, and Marie quirked a brow.

 

“No?”

 

“I mean, yes. You deserve one, but. . .isn’t it too early to go into details?”

 

“It’s 2pm. And, besides, Spirit didn’t crash here last night, so I couldn’t get anything out of him.”

 

Stein didn’t comment that he was somewhat glad that Spirit wasn’t in the house. Marie’s special favor toward him had always warmed a piece of his cold little heart. “It’s 2pm and you’re eating breakfast, now?”

 

“It’s an important meal,” Marie defended.

 

“I missed out on opening the shop.”

 

“Your clients can afford not to be stabbed for one day.”

 

“Yes, but my bills cannot.”

 

“Stein.”

 

“Marie.”

 

“Frank Victor Enstein, you tell me what the hell happened so that you felt the need to beat Spirit up at four in the morning in a Denny’s of all places.”

 

“Three. It was three in the morning,” he said, and if at all possible, she looked even less amused. Stein shook his head, turning back toward the hot stove and cracking an egg into it, watching it sizzle. “It’s a long story.”

 

“If you didn’t remember, I am currently self-employed, so I have all the time in the world.”

 

“Won’t your blog get backed up with submissions?”

 

“I’ve had enough of looking at awful dicks for a couple of days at least,” she mumbled, taking a deep drink of her coffee.

 

“Oh? And mystery man?”

 

“Still a mystery,” Marie sighed, looking off into the distance and trying to mask her frown. It was a sore spot with her regarding that particular image. The more she looked at it, the more she could have sworn that it was Stein, but. . .

 

But if he said it wasn’t, she had little choice but to believe him.

 

“Shame,” he said, buttering toast as well and taking a big bite, but Marie only looked at him, dry as the Sahara.

 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Stein went to open his mouth, going to talk, but Marie made a grossed out face. “At least chew your food, god.”

 

Stein did so. Loudly. And very messily. Grossing her out but also endearing her, in some weird way. After he finally swallowed, however, he only shrugged.

 

“He made a stupid comment and got punched.”

 

The silence stretched as he took another bite, and Marie stared at him. “That’s it?”

 

“That’s it.”

 

“Why do I feel like you’re hiding something?”

 

“Dunno,” he said, as innocently as a 6 foot 10 man covered in scars and piercings could. His stretched ears and the multitude of piercings in his face didn’t much help with that.

 

“Well, what did he say?”

 

“Rather not repeat,” Stein said simply.

 

“But-“

 

“I’m going to take a shower. I still smell like alcohol and regret.”

 

Marie chewed on her lip for a second before she sighed. “This isn’t over, Mister.”

 

“Mmm.”

 

“And I thought alcohol made you crazy?”

 

“I’m already crazy. It’s why I punched him.”

 

“Shush. Just go shower, you weenie,” she said, and he made no snarky comment back as he padded off, taking his shirt off as he went. When Marie turned to look at him, it was just as he’d turned to face her, and her heart jammed up her throat.

 

For the single instant he was facing her, she knew that torso was familiar. And when she flicked her eyes up to his face, he looked like he knew _exactly_ what he was doing.

* * *

 

When Stein told Spirit he couldn’t lie to Marie, that was true. That didn’t mean that he told her the full story all the time, however. 

 

Especially not when it was embarrassing and full of ‘It was at that moment that Stein knew he fucked up’ realizations and ‘You’re probably wondering how I got in this situation, and frankly, so the fuck am I’ instances and-

 

Better just to rewind back a solid twelve hours.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for Spirit being a drunken misogynist
> 
> also feminist!Stein is important to me, okay? deal with it

**11pm**

 

He hated closing up shop so late, but, naturally, Spirit had no regard for general propriety. Not that Stein did all that much in his spare time save for get high and read way too dense anatomy textbooks, and occasionally decide to pierce himself in the comfort of his own bathroom, a practice he highly discouraged but still did. Regardless, that didn’t mean he wanted to sit around and do nothing while Spirit was busy finishing off a client’s piece.

 

As incompetent as Spirit was in most other areas, he was a master tattoo artist, and that was evident in his work. Needle and Thread would get considerably less revenue if it weren’t for him, so for this, Stein kept his mouth shut.

 

But, really, closing up three hours after actual close was just ridiculous. Spirit had come out from the back, grinning as the pretty woman who had come in for a back piece, Kamiko something or other, walked out as well so the two of them could look in the mirror. She seemed to have not a care in the world to how topless she was, and Stein really didn’t either. He’d seen enough tits in his life that he was unaffected by them. Granted, 99% of the time, he was going to be piercing said tits. And the other 1% of the time, it was Marie’s, which, really, no one could compare to.

 

“Oh my god, Spirit, it looks amazing!” the woman said. “And thank you so much for staying past close.”

 

Spirit grinned, trying to look suave by leaning up against the wall but missing and almost crashing back into the closet, managing to find his footing at the last moment via a hand to the wall.

 

“Well, you know, anything for such a pretty lady. And with a gorgeous idea to match,” he flirted, and Stein swore he’d get VD from the conversation alone if he wasn’t demi as fuck and had really only fooled around with a grand total of two people and his left hand.

 

Stein was about to open his mouth and make a comment somewhere between ‘Get the fuck out’ and ‘Unless you’re going to pay us to stay open like Spirit wants to do for your legs, leave’, but she beat him to the punch, smiling at Spirit flirtatiously.

 

“Well, I suppose you should bandage this up so I can let the two of you close up shop.”

 

“We’re always happy to stay open for our clients,” Spirit said, laying it on thick, and Stein rolled his eyes, going back to his phone while Spirit went behind the counter for the gauze and bandaged her right in the waiting area, telling her about how she shouldn’t submerge it for a few days and that she should sleep on her stomach for a few days, as the plasma that would leak could cause her sheets to stick to her tattoo on her back. He gave her the usual conversation, use a non-fragranced, not colored lotion, Aveeno or something of the like, unless she’d prefer aquaphor. To come into the shop if anything went wrong. That he’d be _happy_ to talk to her and, here, have his number.

 

By the time she left, having tipped him, Spirit was downright glowing.

 

“She was soooo into me.”

 

“Mmm,” Stein replied. “Can I go home, now?” As the owner of the shop, he was the one who had to close it up. He’d been friends with Spirit since high school, when the dude wanted to buy weed off of him, but he wouldn’t trust him with matches. Let alone the keys.

 

“No way, my friend! That lovely lady right there just tipped me waaaaay more than she should have. So we? Are getting drunk tonight.”

 

“No,” Stein said, instantly.

 

“Oh, yes. You’ve been a mopey bastard for a few days, now, and I want to treat you. Come on.”

 

“I don’t drink,” Stein said. Usually, he only got high. Never on the job, but still.

 

“Tonight you do,” Spirit assured as they closed up and he started tugging him in the direction of the bar.

 

“No,” Stein replied. “I don’t.” Over his dead body.

* * *

 

**12am**

* * *

 

“Hey! Another whiskey for my friend over here!” Spirit said, and the bartender shot him a dirty look. Stein, for his part, had downed it without a problem, but having worked as a bartender in the past, he could do little more than look apologetic.

 

“Ignore his stupidity,” he said, trying to crack his neck, and failing. No dead body. Not yet. But there was a reason as to why he didn’t fucking drink. He was the worst when he was inebriated. Spirit was, objectively, even more horrifying, but at least Stein kept it in his pants.

 

They’d probably racked up the kind of bill that Stein would usually cringe at. Not that he was a penny pincher, but he didn’t care enough about alcohol to spend much on it. Regardless, the bartender set the glass down in front of him, and Spirit was in, well, good spirits. Surely, it couldn’t be that bad.

* * *

 

**1am**

 

* * *

 

He wasn’t wasted. Not really? Only a little.

 

“These lights are fucking- damn, man,” Spirit said from beside him, all but spinning around on his bar stool. The bartender looked like they wanted to slam their head into the concrete.

 

“Yeah, your redheaded friend has had enough,” they informed Stein, and he merely shrugged. He wasn’t Spirit’s babysitter. Usually, Spirit was _his_ babysitter, actually, so Stein didn’t much care what the man did so long as it wouldn’t land the two of them in jail.

 

“Oi, Life with Ginger,” Stein slurred. “Stop being a fucking idiot and sit still. You’re giving me a migraine.”

 

“Don’t- don’t call me Ging- woah, get a load of those airbags!”

 

He heard a low chuckle from beside him and he turned just in time to see a tall, willowy looking woman with dull blonde hair leaning against the counter. “Give me a martini, Free. Two olives.”

 

Oh. So the bartender’s name was Free. That was unfortunate. Stein wondered how many jokes that got him. His mind wandered as he thought up puns, staring off into the distance. As soon as the drink landed in front of the woman, however, the clink brought him out of his stupor.

 

“Well, hello there,” she purred, and from behind him, Stein heard Spirit whisper something about ‘them honkers’, but chose to ignore it.

 

“What?” he asked, instead, steadying his drunken wobbling with a hand on the railing.

 

“You seem awfully uninterested to be here,” she said, using a cocktail pick to stab through one of the olives in her glass, eating it and keeping the toothpick in, seemingly deliberately.

 

Did. . .did people actually think that was erotic? Maybe he really was too demi. Or his SSRIs dampened sexual interest way more than he thought.

 

“Yeah,” Stein said, flatly. He wasn’t interested in conversation in general, least of all with some random woman with snake’s eyes.

 

“Maybe I could make it more interesting for you?” she purred, batting her lashes at him.

 

His brows furrowed. “Who the fuck are you?”

 

“Interested,” she replied, simply, taking a sip of her drink. “But you can call me Medusa.”

 

“I suppose that’s for the poorly done snake tattoo on your arm,” he replied, and something dangerous flicked over her face.

 

“No. I was born with the name.”

 

“Mm,” he said, about to turn back to his drink, but Spirit nudged him.

 

“Dude!” he stage whispered. “You might actually get laid!”

 

Stein wanted to reply that if he wanted to get laid, he already _had_ someone he could go to. Not that it would be fair to her, but the thought itself sent a jolt of pleasure right down his spine. Ah, yes, Marie. Marie who loved him. Marie.

 

Fuck.

 

“Your crude, ginger friend is correct enough,” she rolled her eyes, nonetheless leaning in closer, smushing her breasts up even higher than her push up bra, likely padded, had done before.

 

“No thanks,” Stein said, simply, and he heard her sputter when he turned back to his drink.

 

“Excuse me?” she hissed, suddenly appearing every bit her namesake.

 

“That was a rejection,” he clarified.

 

“You aren’t nearly attractive enough to _reject_ me,” she said, dangerous, and Stein’s brows furrowed.

 

“But I was attractive enough for you to approach me?”

 

“I have a thing for guys with piercings. Glutton for pain, hm?”

 

Stein breathed in through his nose, finally facing her. In some lights, she could probably pass as Marie’s sister. And, really, he shouldn’t be thinking of Marie, now, of all times.

 

“I said no.”

 

“And I think your no is bullshit,” Medusa replied, simply. “You want to come home with me.”

 

“You seem to know an awful lot for a woman with a shitty tattoo.”

 

Her eyes flashed. “Watch it-“

 

“I’m taken,” he said, simply. Lying. Sort of? Kind of. Yes. Lying. He and Marie weren’t anything. Because he was a wimp. A coward. Too afraid to give it a chance. Too nervous she’d hate him afterward-

 

“Then what the fuck are you doing at a bar talking to another woman?” she asked, now sounding mocking.

 

“Babysitting my friend.” ‘Friend’ was. . .a loose term.

 

“Mmm, or,” she hummed, leaned even closer, “you know being taken is bullshit and you want to be with a real woman.”

 

Something twinged in his stomach, angry. He could handle someone being a dick to him. But the implication that his fake girlfriend, Marie (who could be his real girlfriend if he, as Sid often put it, pulled up his big boy panties and sucked it the fuck up) was lesser- alcohol made him too reactive. Weed mellowed him. He didn’t feel mellow, now. His voice was sharp as a tri-beveled needle. “Oh, yes. Bar hookups with women in cheap makeup is really my schtick.”

 

Medusa looked ready to jam her cocktail pick right into his throat, but he was too drunk to give much of a shit.

 

“All offense intended, but you look like a more poorly rendered version of the person I’m _actually_ interested in, who doesn’t have to dye her hair so her shoddy roots show through and who doesn’t need a Victoria’s Secret bullshit bra to interest me, so-“

 

She spilled her drink right over the top of his head and made the move to break the glass, and only then did Free actually step in. The olive bounced over her nose as Spirit howled with laughter and Medusa lunged for him, ready to tear his jugular out with just her teeth and her badly applied acrylic nails.

 

This? This is why Stein didn’t drink.

* * *

 

**2am**

 

* * *

 

They weren’t so much escorted out of the bar as they were, well-

 

told to get the fuck out and never come back because not only were they closing, but they were also causing the most trouble.

 

And for some reason, Spirit’s brilliant idea, for he was _full_ of brilliant ideas, was to take them to a goddamn Denny’s instead of calling a cab or a lyft or an uber or anyone they knew to take them home because they were drunk off their asses and had left their cars parked back at the shop. But that didn’t matter. Because Stein was hungry, hungrier than he usually was when he had the munchies and could polish off an entire pizza box at Marie’s house.

 

Marie.

 

Stein got mopey when drunk. He really was a sad bastard.

 

Spirit was getting syrup all over the table as he talked, but Stein wasn’t paying attention, only looking up when some of Spirit’s blueberry pancake flicked over his face.

 

He smelled like martinis and cheap clove perfume from when the woman’d managed to get her hands ‘round his neck to strangle him. Not a good look.

 

“Sooooo,” Spirit slurred, laughing. From the side, the waitress looked at them with a careful eye, but Spirit had tipped her in advance a solid hundred and ten dollars, so she wasn’t about to do anything like kick them out. Yet. “You’re a taken man, hm? I guess that means you told Marie ‘bout that anaconda you got there.”

 

Stein groaned, not able to stomach the four cups of strong coffee he’d ingested, only trying to digest the toast he’d requested. “Shut the fuck up. I was lying.”

 

“What?” Spirit asked, trying to sit up straight but only managing to fling more pancake around. “But, dude, you turned down that chick! Me-Melissa?”

 

“I think her name was Maleficent,” Stein corrected, his vision kind of hazy.

 

“Nah, it was Mildred,” Spirit said, sounding sure.

 

“I don’t give a fuck,” Stein admitted, bringing his elbows to the table so he could try to rest his head in his hands. Everything was getting sick. He felt his stomach slosh uncomfortably.

 

“She was really hot for a chick named Mildred,” Spirit said, and Stein groaned. In all honesty, she wasn’t a bad looking woman. But he meant what he said, she just didn’t compare to who he actually was interested in. And he was a bastard for that, too. His first year of Gen Eds in college flashed back at him, all the Gender Studies classes that told him making judgment calls over women’s appearances was sexist.

 

Still. Marie _was_ more attractive. And she never told him his no was bullshit. So that was a plus. Didn’t people teach basic consent?

 

“So if you’re not taken, why didn’t you hit that and quit that?” Spirit asked, now leaning against the wall, looking more tired than he’d ever seen him. Even at keggers during college.

 

Because he was a lovesick asshat. Lovesick? Lovesick. Stein’s head spun.

 

“Stop talking,” he said, instead, but Spirit didn’t seem to let up.

 

“I don’t get it,” he started, and the phrase itself jolted Stein right back to a few days ago, Marie, in her bed, looking up at him, begging him to stay, to be with her. “You get all these hot babes and you don’t even try. I mean, at the bar, and Marie-“

 

“Don’t call Marie a ‘babe’,” Stein said. “She hates that.”

 

“See! The two of you are like. . .practically married. Why haven’t you tapped that ass like you’re playing the bongos?”

 

“Shut up, Spirit,” Stein said, looking up, but it would appear that the alcohol and the syrup wasn’t making him jolly, but rather more volatile than usual.

 

“Look, man, I sent her that picture-“

 

“Which you never fucking should have,” Stein cut in, glowering.

 

“Because I wanted you to finally man up-“

 

“Don’t say ‘man up’-“

 

“And fuck her! She’s been wanting you to for the past decade, dude. She’s probably horny _and_ lonely. That’s prime time! Why haven’t you buttered that biscuit for Thanksgiving?”

 

“ _What?”_ Stein asked, way too drunk to understand Spirit’s stupidity.

 

“You know? Shared bologna Sundays? Grated cheese for her casserole. Peed in her bushes-“

 

“That’s disgusting-“

 

“Come on, man, she was all but welcoming you to that pussy chamber and you won’t even clean out her cobwebs with your womb broom!”

 

“You’re subhuman filth, are you aware of that?”

 

“But I’m subhuman filth that would smash that asshole like Peter Gabriel with a sledgehammer,” Spirit said, flailing around. The waitress looked particularly uncomfortable and was currently brandishing a butter knife, as though for protection.

 

“Stop talking about her like that-“

 

“You know, I just don’t get you,” Spirit said, knocking over his drink, but the waitress didn’t look particularly interested in rushing over to clean that shit up. “But, whatever, man, if you won’t make a move, I will.”

 

Stein was dead silent for a moment, his eyes flashing. “Excuse you?”

 

“Look, just cause you won’t speak in tongues to her love cradle doesn’t mean I’m gonna pass up the chance for pity sex! Marie’s hot, dude! And if you’re not gonna fuck her, then I’m by all means ready to bury my dick in that so far not even King Arthur could pull that sword out of her-“

 

It was probably the alcohol. Most of the time, Spirit was a decent guy. Bit of a pig, but decent. He knew enough not to be so disgusting, unless he was absolutely ten sheets to the wind. He’d cheated on his first girlfriend with his second, and his second with his third, and so on. And it wasn’t that Stein was being a possessive asshole over a woman he had no business being possess over-

 

except he was, so he wasn’t exactly living up to that Gender Studies class he took, (sorry Professor Morningstar), but he was irritated, and tired. His stomach felt sick, his eyes were dry, his head was throbbing and how fucking _dare-_ about Marie of all people. Good, sweet, wholesome, totally kinky Marie who didn’t think he was a freak and let him sleep over at her house and sometimes let him eat her out as a sign from the universe that he was doing something right in his life and she deserved so much fucking better than him but she certainly deserved miles better that the shit Spirit had said and he was- he- and-

 

And he reached across the table, standing up so fast his mind spun, surely getting whiplash, and grabbed the collar of Spirit’s shirt in one fist, balling the other and throwing his other fist out towards his face and-

 

Ouch. That was sure to leave a shiner come morning.

* * *

 

**3am**

* * *

 

The police had been called after Spirit punched him back. And Stein punched him again. And it was probably because someone was looking down at him, (shout out to you, Nana, even if he didn’t eat Kosher anymore, still looking out for him. calling him an idiot, certainly, but looking out for him nonetheless) it was Joe who showed up to the Denny’s.

 

And that was good because, for one, Joe owed Spirit a hell of a solid after he sucked his dick behind the shop. And, two, Marie definitely hated Joe more than she’d be mad at Stein and Spirit for being arrested for assault. Hopefully. Probably. Maybe. She had a soft spot for Stein. Spirit might only get another bruise.

 

Speaking of, his nose was bleeding. So was Stein’s, though, and his ribs hurt.

 

“The two of you are a fucking _mess_ ,” Joe said, hauling them both off to the cop car in the driveway, having handcuffed them together so they wouldn’t be tempted to hit each other anymore. Like toddlers. “I am so sorry, Tsubaki,” he said, to the waitress, who had gladly pocketed the hundred Spirit gave her for tip and called Joe without a second thought.

 

“Just get them out of here, for God’s sake,” she said, exasperated, still holding her butter knife. As she turned around, making her way to the kitchen where the cook was, probably sleeping, they heard her mutter. ‘Get a part time job to help pay for school, Tsubaki. It’ll be fun, Tsubaki. No one will show up at your diner and punch one another like _morons,_ Tsubaki. Fucking bullshit-‘

 

“. . .I don’t think I’ve ever actually heard her talk that much, before,” Joe admitted, but shook his head and shoved them out of the building. “You two are damn lucky that Tsubaki called me instead of 911. I go here for all my coffee-“

 

“The coffee was shit,” Stein groaned, and Joe looked at him as though he’d just walked in on him cannibalizing his grandmother.

 

“You take that back-“

 

“Joe, the world is spinning,” Spirit said, nearly falling against the man as they all stumbled over to the car, lights off. Joe shook his head, bringing the two men upright before they got to the open door of the vehicle.

 

“She told me everything. You two are- god, just like children. What do you have to say for yourselves?”

 

“I’m- fucking sick,” Stein said, suddenly, the sloshing in his stomach finally getting to the point where he just couldn’t keep it back, anymore.

 

“Yes, I, too, am sick from your behavior-“

 

And then Stein threw up on him.

 

“OH- FUCK, THAT’S DISGUSTING. YOU’RE DISGUSTING. YOU TWO ARE GODDAMN **CHILDREN!** ” Joe howled as Spirit yanked away from Stein, making a grossed out face with a high pitched whine.

 

Somewhere, in the very, very back of his mind, all Stein could think was ‘Well, that’s what you fucking get for breaking up with Marie.’

* * *

 

**3:30am**

 

* * *

 

Cop cars? Not comfortable. After claiming that he had a free hand to punch Spirit with, three bad swerves on the road from Joe threatening to go back there and break them up himself, and Spirit crying for fifteen minutes, they had come to the station.

 

And, jail cells? Even less comfortable. For all of the parties involved. Joe had taken his vest off and spent ten minutes trying to make his hair look decent even though he was just _calling_ Marie. Spirit was squirming uncomfortably on the bench. And Stein? Stein’s actual nightmares included being handcuffed to Spirit.

 

“I can’t believe the two of you,” Joe berated. “Marie will be ashamed.”

 

“You don’t know her anymore,” Stein shot back. Except, yes, she would absolutely be ashamed. Still, after sobering up a bit thanks to throwing up copiously, he was ready to be his snarky self, again. Spirit, as well, had lasted only until Joe went to take them into the near abandoned station, throwing up on him mere seconds before Joe had brought them into the cell.

 

At least Stein could console himself with the fact that, while he smelled of martinis and regret, Joe smelled like two different kinds of vomit. Small victories. But victories none the less.

 

Joe’s face fell. “Shut up,” he replied, petulantly. It would appear they had all regressed to twelve year olds. “You two are the ones who were reduced to a fist fight over her.”

 

“I still can’t believe you, man,” Spirit said, shaking his head. “I sent the good nude, too. The one you took of yourself for that one piercing magazine-“

 

“BME,” Stein muttered, feeling tired.

 

“To see if you’d finally make a move on her honey trap, but NO!”

 

“You stole my picture and sent it without consent. That is illegal.”

 

“Guys, can you stop talking about this-“

 

“Shut up, Joe,” both of them said, at the same time, and Joe was astonished into silence for a brief moment.

 

“What’s illegal is that she keeps offering up her butt to you and you never take it man, just- just bite that shit!”

 

“The two of you are literally in a jail cell right now. Arrested. As in, handcuffed together. And you’re telling me to-“

 

“Shut _up_ , Joe,” both of them said, again, and Joe looked at a complete loss.

 

“Look, man, she’s been in love you for like. . .a decade.”

 

“But- we dated in that decade,” Joe said.

 

“Joe, what the fuck, man? Shush.”

 

Joe felt suddenly that he was in a different universe. But he was too preoccupied with wondering- is that the name she had called out sometimes and muffled herself over? What the fuck? That was so _rude!_

“I know,” Stein said, “that she’s been in love with me-“

 

“Then just- make a move, dude! What are you afraid of? Just- just go for it? She saw your weird, pierced up dick and didn’t go running for the hills, yeah? She actually _likes_ it! When will you ever find a woman who loves your dick like that? You can-“

 

“I am _calling_ Marie, you two, it’s _your_ turn to shut the fuck up,” Joe said, and at the promise of Marie being called, the two of them actually got quiet. But Spirit’s words kept swirling in his head. ‘What are you afraid of?’

 

What was he afraid of?

 

He didn’t know.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember that 'explicit sexual content' warning? Yeah. It's for this chapter.

Stein sighed, stooping so he could wash the shampoo out of his hair. It was Marie’s, because the stuff he usually kept at her place was completely empty. He’d been at her house so much, showered there so often, he even had his own towel.

 

Marie’s shampoo smelled nice. Like her. Clean. Honey-like. It was probably a bad smell on him, personally, but on her, it was-

 

It was home.

 

He let his head loll back as he washed the suds away with hot water. When he’d turned around for her, shirtless, for one of the first times in over a year that she could remember, he was sure she’d connect the dots. That it was his picture. That that was-

 

Okay, he probably shouldn’t be self conscious of his anatomy. It was anatomy. His entire body was an experiment for him to use. But ever since a rather uncomfortable situation with his first hookup ever and a really cruel jab that hit him where it hurt, well, he wasn’t going to horrify Marie with his ‘disgusting dick’, as they’d called it. But she wasn’t horrified, from what he could tell. And he wasn’t exactly ashamed of what he looked like. Even if the picture was a tad outdated, and he’d upgraded from 9 piercings to 12.

 

 _Surely_ she wouldn’t horrified.

 

‘What are you afraid of?’

 

Stein breathed in deep, looking down at himself.

 

If she wanted to find mystery man so badly, well, he was always bad at not giving her everything she wanted.

* * *

 

By the time he came out of the bathroom, fully dressed, she had her back to him, having eaten her breakfast, and was on her laptop, looking through dick pictures. She heard the door but she didn’t turn around.

 

“Hey, I caved and made some food for you, if you’re still hungry,” she said, and he only came over, slowly, quietly.

 

“I am,” he said, simply, and she was leaning over to type, doing that thing where she let her hair fall over her shoulder like a waterfall, exposing the back of her neck.

 

“Okay. There’s leftover bacon, if you want it.”

 

“I don’t want bacon,” he replied, and she sighed.

 

“Yes, yes. You’re Jewish, I know. But if you’re hungry, it’s there.”

 

“Marie,” he said, and there was something in his voice that had her looking over her shoulder.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I don’t want bacon.”

 

Marie lifted a brow, looking him up and down for a moment. His hair was a mess, having been towel dried hastily, and his shirt clung to his chest due to the water. It was one of the older shirts, from before he started going to the gym with her, and now his shoulders and arms were a tad too big to fit it. Filling it rather nicely. She flicked her eye back up to his face after a moment of checking him over, having taken out her prosthetic but not put on the eyepatch. Stein was never bothered by her missing eye, but she liked to check if he was freaked out. Didn’t seem like it.

 

 She continued looking at him even as he walked around the couch to stand before her, leaving her to lean away from her laptop on the table so there was space for him. He was so. . .tall. She had to crank her head back almost uncomfortably to see him.

 

“What do you want, then?” she asked, trying to appear nonchalant, but when _his_ eyes skimmed over her, instead, she felt something in her belly hitch. It was as though she could feel his gaze, like a fingertip, running along her jaw, down her throat, to her collarbones. She was instantly hyperaware of the fact that she was not in anything even remotely considered sexy. By anyone’s standards. It wasn’t cat pajamas, but an oversized sleeping shirt, instead, which did little for her shape.

 

He’d only ever been like this a few times, before. But she knew how it always ended.

 

“See something you like?”

 

“Yes,” he replied, easily, and her breath hitched.

 

“But I’m. . .I’m not wearing any sexy lingerie,” she said, biting her lip, but he was already leaning down, settling one knee between her legs on the couch, one of his hands steadying on the sofa. This wasn’t the overwhelming heat and passion like the kiss in The Notebook, or the frantic clawing at clothes like in her other romantic comedies, but it was-

 

God, it was so hot, anyway. So fevered, as he slowly halved the space between them, again and again, coming closer and closer. Warmth settled in her stomach, but she didn’t dare to move, for fear of spooking him.

 

“Stein?” she started, but only breathed in deeply. “Frank?”

 

“I don’t care what you wear, Marie,” he informed her, and she knew, but it still did things to her, regardless, hearing him say it.

 

“Yeah?” she asked, and by now, he was so close she could smell her own shampoo on him. Her legs wanted to cross to relieve some of the ache that had settled there, but his knee was between them, moving up.

 

“Yes,” he replied, stopping just shy of her mouth and sucking in a harsh breath. “Marie, can I-“ he started, but she opened her mouth to spare him.

 

“Please, kiss me,” she said, and maybe that was desperate, but she knew him, knew he’d fumble and stumble over the question. And, besides, he didn’t need to be told twice. He ended the space between them, tenderly bringing his hand to her jaw, and kissed her like she was the entire world. Like she was light he was letting touch his lips, and maybe that’s why she’d really fallen for him, harder and harder over the years. Not because he could lift her without a problem or because he gave wicked head, but because she’d never been kissed like that by anyone else before. Ever.

 

She bit at his lip as he let the hand that was supporting him come to her side, gently tracing down until it got to her hip, and she wiggled around, wanting him to bring his fingers beneath her shirt. Her panties may not have been lacy or satiny or sexy, but they were still on, and she wanted them off, ASAP.

 

“Frank,” she muttered, feeling him tap at her hip. “Frank-“ but he kept cutting her off with kisses, still oddly close-mouthed.

 

He hummed, instead, deep, rubbing his thumb over her jaw with the hand cradling her face, and she arched against him, bringing her palm between his shoulder blades. She was careful not to give into the temptation of bringing it to his ass, or his thighs, or his hips. Whenever they did something like this, so rarely, it was on the unspoken grounds that he gave her pleasure and she didn’t touch him below the belt.

 

Maybe what they had wasn’t romance, but, hell, the last time she’d had a decent orgasm with a man was the last time he ate her out, and if that was loveless, well, whatever. At the moment, she’d take it.

 

“God, Frank, just take-“ a kiss, “my fucking-“ another, “panties off!”

 

She could feel his smirk as he moved away from her lips, kissing her cheeks, instead, and then down, down, over her jaw, onto her neck, and she gasped as he bit down, sucking hard at her jugular, making her squirm as he finally brought his hand beneath her shirt and toyed with the elastic of her underwear.

 

Marie, for all her fetish modeling and all her photographs, for all the cute, kinky, sexy pieces she had in her closet, wore, of all things, neon pink hipsters that day with cats on them. At least it wasn’t granny panties. Talk about sex appeal.

 

He didn’t seem to mind, however, as he tugged around her sleeping shirt and licked and bit at every patch of flesh he could reach. She only jolted, however, when she felt his long, capable fingers stroke over her lips through her panties, bringing her arms to his head as he grew impatient and rucked her shirt up so he could bring her nipple into his mouth.

 

They were just friends, you know? Friends put other friends’ tits into their mouths. As she’d heard him say to Spirit, once, ‘Yes, I’ve had her boob in my mouth, but is that romance?’ Nope.

 

Maybe? She didn’t know. She couldn’t much think as he moved down, taking her panties off with his teeth in the cheesiest and yet most erotic move she could witness, and her heart jammed up her throat when she felt his hands come to her inner thighs, about to spread her as he knelt before her, knees on the carpet-

 

“Wait,” she said, breathing hard and bringing her thighs together. And he stopped immediately, no groan, like with hookups in the past, no complaint. Just looking up at her, quietly, waiting. “Can we-“ she swallowed. “We always do this on the couch. . .could we maybe. . .do it on a mattress?”

 

She wanted to add ‘like a real couple’ or ‘like you love me’, but she was too much of a wuss, but he only continued looking up at her and tilted his head, opening his mouth and voicing it for her.

 

“Like real lovers?” he asked, lifting a brow, and she couldn’t breathe.

 

“I- if you don’t want to- we- you don’t have to. Here is fine- here is great, actually, here is-“

 

“Marie.”

 

“. . .yeah?” she asked, soft, hesitant, very much so like when he found her dancing along to Anaconda by Nicki Minaj.

 

“We can, if you like.”

 

“. . .If I’d like what?” she asked, and the way his eyes flashed made her stomach flip.

 

“If you’d like to be on a mattress,” he finished, and something in her sunk. Oh. Yes. Of course. Loveless. She remembered- “Because I was under the impression you loved me, and considering there’s reciprocation there-“

 

Her mouth dropped open. He just said it- so easily? So simply? As though she hadn’t pined for him for ten years?

 

“Wait- you? You- like me?”

 

“Mmmm,” he answered, rubbing his palms up and down her legs.

 

“Like. . .like-like me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Like romantically?”

 

“Mmmmhm,” he said, kissing her hip.

 

“And you’re telling me- now?”

 

“Better late than never?”

 

“Why not before???”

 

“Because I’m a wuss,” he admitted, and she felt her heart throb because- god, _she_ was a wuss! They had been wusses together and never even knew it! She loved him so much.

 

She was quiet for a second before she yanked him up to her mouth without any warning, kissing him stupid. For a good three, four, maybe five minutes, it was just a hell of a sloppy makeout. When she pulled away, placing her forehead against his, her whisper was tender and kind and loving.

 

“You best fucking carry me to my room and eat my box like it’s your last meal for making me think this shit was loveless, you ass.”

 

He sighed his pleasure as he leaned back and scooped her up, kissing her everywhere he could reach and feeling her legs wrap around him as she tugged on his hair.

 

That was his woman, alright.

 

The walk to her room was short, Mr. Muffins meowing his blessing to the two of them and hopping off the bed the instant Stein opened the door. Good thing, too, he didn’t want her thinking he was making a pussy pun when she heard a ‘meow’ as he was eating her like a cheesecake.

 

Gently, with the care he reserved for. . .well, nothing but Marie, really, he laid her down on the bed. Her shirt had come down in their short commute, but her face was still flushed and her expression was warm and delicate.

 

“Could you get a towel?” she asked, knowing full and well she was one who often left the bed completely soaked through. He nodded, knowing she kept them in her closet, and when he grabbed one, turning back around to see her,  he grinned when he realized that she’d brought her own hands to her shirt, lifting it up up up until it was off, leaving her completely naked before him.

 

Without having to be asked, he took a few fast strides back to the bed, throwing the folded up towel down under her ass, which she lifted up, before cradling her face and kissing her forehead, her nose, a chaste, swift kiss to her nose, before he traveled down her body, as though mapping out an incision line with his mouth. She’d wanted him to eat her box like it was his last meal? Well, that’s what he’d do, then. He certainly put her through enough grief to reward her with that. When he got between her thighs, she was already meowling, ready to let him wear her thighs like earmuffs, which is exactly what she did when he leaned down and downright nuzzled.

 

He missed this. Missed her. Could have been doing it for well over a year. Well longer than a year. But at least now he was going to make up for lost time.

 

“Mmm, don’t tease me,” she commanded, ever the powerbottom, and he nipped at her lower lips for a second, making her yelp. He was okay with that. He was a service top, so it worked out damn well for him. Slowly, he ran his nose down her slit before he parted her and gave a long, languid lick, making her sigh sweetly into the air. “That’s good, keep doing that,” she encouraged, and so he did.

 

Until he got to her clit, caressing it with his tongue and-

 

Marie all but jumped off of the bed, her eye wide.

 

“Holy shit! Oh my god- what was-“

 

It was only because he was holding her down that she hadn’t completely fallen off, and she looked down at him, letting her knees spread so she could see him better. When he grinned at her, knowing exactly what he had done, she only gaped at him, confused.

 

Well, he supposed he should give her a hint.

 

Slowly, he let his tongue stick out. The four suds, two on either side, weren’t any surprise to her. She’d known that particular part of him on this particular part of her a while back. It was when he, very slowly, right before her eyes, demonstrated his tongue split that she sputtered.

 

“You- you got it done-“ she said, awestruck.

 

“Did it myself,” he corrected, gently, massaging her outer thighs.

 

“When?”

 

“Few months ago.”

 

“That’s why you- you wouldn’t French kiss me. . .”

 

“More interested in French kissing this set of lips, first. Forgive me for that,” he said, giving her a shit eating grin.

 

“You can. . .move both sides. . .”

 

“Independently, yes.”

 

Which had been what made her all but fall off the mattress. Because when both of his hands were occupied, one creeping up her stomach to her bare breasts, the other at her hip, and she felt something flick her Vertical Hood Ring and something else lick, long and slow and indulgent, around her clit, well- she was confused.

 

“Holy shit,” she breathed, pink cheeked and excited, her eye bright. “Holy shit. Eat me,” she commanded, and he needed no other encouragement, going back to his spot between her hips. His arms came under her legs, bringing her thighs to his shoulders so he could get more into her.

 

And into her he damn well got. Marie was breathing so hard, her grin and glee evident in how scraps of ‘holy fucking shit’ and ‘Frank, goddamn’ and ‘thank you, _God_ ’ were peppered through her respiration. He ate her like he was _hungry_. It had been a while since he last got the chance, so he decided to do it with just his tongue, no fingers, yet. Instead, he’d slip one half of his tongue into her as the other half licked around the opening, and she just wouldn’t stop gasping when he’d alternate with licking her clit, moving both sides of his split in a different pattern, the studs through his tongue certainly adding to the stimulation.

 

Her thighs were twitching like crazy around his ears as she got nearer and nearer to orgasm, and he drummed his fingers on her hips, grip strong as he pulled her closer to his face, wanted her to drench him. He was a lifeguard inside that pussy and she was downright grinning about it even when she loose a high yelp and came, hard, squirting as she moaned.

 

Marie wasn’t the most erotic person in the world when she came, not to most people. She was loud and messy and wet, and her voice wasn’t a pornographic wail. Instead, it was so genuine. Her toes curled, her calves slapping against his back, her stomach crunching in. He looked up at her, seeing how she had been playing with her breasts, the piercing through the nipples gleaming in the light of her room. He kept licking, but slowly, lightly, just to help her through her orgasm, prolong it as much as he could. She’d never come so quickly before, so he supposed all that training he did to make sure he could move both sides of his tongue independently had worked. But what had started as an intention to simply ease her through it quickly turned into Marie yelping and grasping his hair in her hands, completely over stimulated.

 

“F-F-F-Fra-a-an-ank,” she called out, face squished up, entire body shaking, and she just looked so pretty when she did that- he he quickly regained his interest in bringing her to the edge, again, but this time, he let go of his hold on one of her legs so he could bring a finger into her, making the familiar come-hither (haha, cum hither) motion that he knew she loved.

 

G-spot was a myth. Bull-fucking-shit.

 

Marie sobbed, grinding down on his face at the same time as she tried to get away, but a ‘Don’t stop! Don’t you dare fucking stop!’ was on her tongue and, really, who was he to deny her? He wasn’t much one for licking his plate, but for Marie? He’d do a great number of things. Including adding in a second finger when she asked it of him, twisting them and moving them in her, pressing up until she wailed louder than before, all his oral attention focused on her clit as he fingerfucked her, an easy way to bring her to orgasm with seemingly no effort at all. She squirted once more, soaking him and leaving a wet spot on the towel they’d had the good sense to set down.

 

Oh. Oh that was new. Usually she was a one per customer kind of girl when it came to squirting. Twice in one sitting? The tongue split really _was_ a good idea.

 

He pulled away from her when her hands came to his shoulders, weakly pushing.

 

“Please- oh, god, Frank, I can’t- I can’t take anymore-“ she panted out, and so he kisses his way back up her body, stopping at her breasts. He let his eyes meet hers as she looked down at him, using her blanket to clean the wetness from his face.

 

“I remember when I pierced these,” he said, simply, dropping the blanket, and his voice was ragged.

 

“Yeah?” she asked, still so spent, completely boneless, but absolutely blissed out.

 

“I wanted to lick the blood away rather badly,” he admitted. “They looked so pretty, flushed and pink and puffy.”

 

“And metallic,” she added. “You should lick them, now.”

 

“Mmm,” he replied, doing as she’d implied, and she made the prettiest little ‘oh’ when he did, licking around the areola and flicking the jewelry, biting gently.

 

“Gooood, you’re good with that mouth,” she said, holding his head in place so he’d keep stimulating her nipple. To make sure the other didn’t feel lonely, he went ahead and palmed her other breast, making her gasp. He couldn’t help but admit that his ego was stroked.

 

But, speaking of stroking. He stopped his ministrations on her chest after a few long moments, and she let her arms fall to the mattress, completely pliant as he kissed up her body, placing a tender kiss on her lips, leaving her to giggle as his tongue came out and licked at her bottom lip and upper lip in two different directions.

 

“I’m going to have to get used to that,” she said, pulling away with a grin so she could nuzzle at his shoulder, frowning suddenly. “Why do you still have clothes on?”

 

“Were you intending for me to strip for you?” he asked, and she pouted up at him.

 

“Yeah,” she replied, and he laughed, feeling in higher spirits than he had for a long while, even as Marie reached up to tenderly trace around the black eye he was sporting. “At least the shirt would be nice?”

 

So he did so without hesitancy, pulling away for just a moment so he could throw his shirt elsewhere, somewhere in her mess of a room, and she made an appreciative noise, her hands tentatively coming out but hesitating.

 

“You can touch me, Marie,” he said, giving her permission, and one of her hands came to his torso, feeling his chest, his nipple piercings.

 

“These are new?”

 

“Did them a few months ago,” he said, enjoying the feeling of her soft hands stroking over him, one on his back, playing with the scarification, the other hesitantly playing with his nipples, making him moan. She yanked her hand away for a second before looking at him in surprise, grinning.

 

“You’re sensitive.” He hummed in affirmation, and she went back to toying with them, tugging on the jewelry, simple, gold bars, while hers were silver, and playing with the nub. “That’s hot,” she informed him, and he breathed a laugh.

 

“So was how you squirted twice in a row. New development. I’ll have to put that down in the report,” he teased, and she giggled, pinching his nipple and making him jolt, bringing her mouth to his neck and his collarbones, leaving hickies in between her happy laughter. Marie’s laugh was like bubbles, fizzy and happy and sweet. He could drown in her. He could die, right there, as she bestowed affection upon him.  It took a few good minutes for her to answer him, too busy finding the ways to make him squirm after so many years of being the only receiving partner.

 

“What report?” she asked, as she kissed over his chest, rolling him onto his back and grinning. “In your sex log?”

 

“That’s an- oh, fuck,- excellent idea,” he breathed, feeling her grind her hips against his, though he was still clothed.

 

Marie laughed, grinding down more. “You wouldn’t dare.”

 

“It would be a fascinating entry. Pardon the pun.”

 

“You’re not pardoned,” she said, rolling her hips so her ass could stimulate him through his pants, and she felt the rough material irritate her skin. She was sure she was leaving a wet spot against them.

 

“What should I do- ah~-to earn a pardon, Marie?” he asked, looking at her, half lidded, and she traced over his chest. She could feel the hard line of his cock against her thigh, remembering that she’d had two orgasms and he hadn’t even touched himself. She could practically feel him throbbing.

 

“You can start with kissing me,” she said, locking her knees against his hips and rolling him back on top of her like a move in a martial arts movie. “Because I’m not going to do all this work.”

 

“As you wish,” he replied, leaning down slowly, but she grabbed the back of his head and led him to her mouth faster, letting her free hand come to the front of his pants, squeezing him, making him moan into the kiss. If at all possible, he somehow got even harder, and she couldn’t help but feel smug. When they broke away, she leaned her forehead against his, bumping their noses together. Tender, again.

 

“You know, there’s something else you can do for me,” she said, kissing over his face.

 

“Yes?”

 

“What if I said that I want you inside me?” she asked, bold, for her, as she looped a strand of his hair round and round her finger. He moved back so she could see his face, unable to hide the spark of lust in his eyes, but also mild concern.

 

“Then I would say I needed to tell you something,” Stein said, honestly, and Marie’s brows furrowed.

 

“Tell me something? What?”

 

He looked around for a second before he sighed and looked back at her. “That was the wrong choice of words, really. It’s more like. . .showing you.”

 

“What do you need to show me?” she asked, and she saw the way he hesitated. “Hey, whatever it is, I don’t care, you know? I love you. No matter what.” With that, she reached up and traced his jaw, smiling, and he leaned into her touch for a moment.

 

“Okay,” he said, after a few seconds of her tenderness. “Okay.”

 

He leaned back, then, sitting and bringing his hands to his waist and undoing his belt, and Marie bit her lip. It was a big move for him, really, to do any of this with her. The first time she’d ever had sex, she’d insisted on the lights being off, too embarrassed. Stein didn’t really know shame, though.

 

Maybe she’d find out he wasn’t naturally silver haired? No. That treasure trail didn’t lie. Was the something he needed to show her the fact that he was circumcised? She already assumed that much. Was it that he was big? She could _feel_ that much.

 

Her eye was trained on him like a hawk as she sat up, too, her legs still spread and breasts not particularly perky as she leaned closer and her stomach crunching in so she shows tummy folds and her thighs dimpling slightly because she had cellulite but who the fuck cared? He thought she was sexy, if the straight up steel rod in his pants was any indication, and _she_ thought she was sexy, so it didn’t matter. Just like it didn’t matter how scarred Stein was, both from rejected piercings and other things, or the coarse silver treasure trail that led down down down to where he’d unbuttoned and unzipped his pants.

 

And then, without fanfare, he tugged down his boxers and his pants both, all at once, and her lower lip dropped.

 

He was-

 

“Wait! Wait, what the shit!? _You’re_ the one in the picture!”

 

“Ye-“

 

“Holy hell!”

 

“Marie-“

 

“I asked you and you said no!” she accused, looking back up at his face for just a millisecond before she had to look back at his dick. There it was. Cinderella Cock. Her A+. The only one that got her going out of thousands of dick pictures.

 

“I panicked?”

 

“Oh my lord- is that more than in the picture?”

 

“Three more,” he confirmed, so used to being the one who looked at others like a specimen, not used to being the one in the subject’s seat. But Marie didn’t look horrified or disgusted, but, somehow, even more turned on.

 

“Holy shit,” she breathed, so wet that, truly, without the towel, she’d have probably flooded her bed. “Holy shit. I want that in me.”

 

She saw the way his cock twitched, hard, up against his stomach, at her words, and she almost cooed. God that was so _cute._

 

“Not freaked out?” he asked, relieved.

 

“Freaked out?” she repeated, looking back at his face, though every moment not spent staring at his dick was disappointing. “It’s a masterpiece.”

 

His cold, dead heart warmed in his chest. Well, that was certainly different than ‘disgusting’.

 

Looks like he had nothing to be afraid of at all.

 

“But-if you sent it in. ..why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, leaning in even closer and slowly bringing her hands to his knees, tracing her palms up his thighs, slow and seductive, but still sweet, prepping him for what was to come. His breathing got shallower at that.

 

“I didn’t send it,” he explained, and Marie’s eyebrows went up.

 

“What?”

 

“Spirit sent it. Thought it would- hook us up- oh, fuck, please keep touching me,” he begged when she massaged at his thighs. His skin hunger was so real. Hell, his _Marie_ hunger was so real.

 

“Wait, Spirit sent it? That’s illegal. It’s not his picture,” she said, turning Stein into mush in her hands.

 

“I- I know-“

 

“And. . .why did you take it, anyway?”

 

“Was going to- send it into a piercing magazine- fuck, Marie-“

 

She smiled at him innocently, having brought her fingers dangerously close to his shaft, but staying in legs territory. He was so adorable.

 

“So, Spirit sent the picture, never even told me, and caused this awful slight against you?” she asked, knee crawling her way over to him, keeping leverage on his legs as her voice got even more tender. “That’s awful. You’ve gone through a lot then, haven’t you? Hm, darling?”

 

Stein all but whimpered, wrapping an arm around her as she kissed his cheek. He had been called a great many things in his life, but not ‘darling’. It wasn’t mean, either, or patronizing. When Marie said it, she did mean it. He was dear to her. Him and his pierced up dick that she gently pressed her palm again, making him gasp. She slowly smooched her way over to his earlobe, biting before she whispered. “I hope you’re okay with the fact that I am going to play with your joystick for a solid week straight and ride you like a goddamn circus pony, babe, but before that. . .what do you say to a little revenge against him, hm?”

 

 _God._ She was a hell of a woman.

 

He was in love.

* * *

 

In hindsight, Marie never once believed she would be found with her ass currently imprinting itself upon Spirit Albarn’s prize winning petunias as Stein moaned in her ear, hips crashing against hers as she muffled her pornographic dirty talk.

 

The actual objective of their mission, which was just to get back at Spirit, quickly dissolved into, well, to put it plainly, flat out fucking each other, and Marie sucked on Stein’s fingers as he growled something probably way too inappropriate for her to think about when his dick wasn’t in her, but she was too caught up in the heat pooling at the base of her spine and between her thighs.

 

“Gooooood,” she moaned out, thankful that, for once, when she had a dick in her, she wasn’t faking it. “Don’t stop. Christ-“

 

“I prefer Frank-“

 

“Chriiiiiist,” she moaned again. Fuck, she even loved his stupid, sacrilegious puns. Her nails dug into his shoulders, her spine arched, bringing her breasts bouncing. Every single one of his piercings stimulated her, brought her nerve endings alive, and she could feel how they’d slide into her, rubbing over her walls, and-

 

Enter Spirit, stage right.

 

“What are you two doing!? Oh god, oh no, oh- my petunias! MY PETUNIAS!? STEIN! STEIN, MY PETUNIAS!” Spirit wailed, waddling outside in his slippers. The mud mask he had put on had dried in some places and remained wet and gloopy in others, and the manic panic hair dye in his hair had dripped onto his soft pink bathrobe as he half-sobbed. The neighborhood, a nice, suburban place, had likely never seen so much excitement in its entire conception. “You’re- desecrating! MY petunias? YOU’RE TEARING ME APART, STEIN! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?”

 

It was at that exact moment, when Stein broke his loving, tender gaze with Marie to look at Spirit, just as her back arched even more, her nails clawing down his back, and the wetness as she squirted near overwhelming, that he smirked like he had never smirked before. What Marie was doing was obvious. She was coming, wet as a hurricane. And Stein was-

 

“I’m watering your flowers.”

* * *

 

_“Cop a feel, Copperfield style, abracadabra- that bra: do you think I can pull it off?_

_Wanna bang around? Just jot me down on your to-do list: under "put out like a fire"._

_'CauseI got somethin' and it goes thumpin' like this:_

_all you need is my uhn tiss, uhn tiss, uhn tiss.”_

~Bloodhound Gang

<3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand, that's all, folks!! Thank you so so so much for sticking with me through this silly story and this resbang! It's been a hell of a ride, pardon the pun! 
> 
> Last year, I started it with a bang. This year, I'm ending it with one. 
> 
> <3
> 
> You can find my fantastic partner (thefishywitchy)'s accompanying art, a storyboard (!!!!!!!) at her tumblr! http://thefishywitchy.tumblr.com/post/156702045816/warning-slight-bit-of-nsfw-dialogue-view-at 
> 
> You've been a darling, Aer. Thank you so so so much for being my be through all of this. It's been a hard resbang but- guys, I finished it! At the end of this story, I have written 100K+ words for yet another resbang! Thank you all for your support and encouragement. I'm so happy to be done.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry for absolutely none of this


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